The Word Painter~~Indeterminate Movements

The Word Painter
Chapter Seven--Indeterminate Movements
by D'Alaire

Indeterminate Movements

The young woman's voice, singing the song at Anai's soft bequest, was like a fine flute in the bright moons and firelight, lilting in a heavy rhythm, a slow skipping waltz. Anai breathed through it, her thin, hoarse voice full with emotion, her eyes still a century away...
"Spirits borne of the midnight air, blow gently over the soil;
     Make wide your seed over the earthen water, be warmed in the new dawning sun of life;
     Spring roots to drive into the soil, fledgling tendrils penetrate the moist earth;
     Drink from the ground well in loving nurturing;
"Spread over the dewy field as the seed yet grows in its welcoming bed;
     Draw out the leafy branches, drive the roots, bear the fragrant flower to the sun;
     Feed on the sun's warmth and love in exaltation of nature's blessing;
"My mate, bring the stalk of your desire to my warm watery earth,
     And let the flower of our natures' bonding ripple through our blessed lands."
There, the song ended and the elder returned to the present with a slow blink then reached out to Babaki. Osna came for Ara, who had been sleeping but awoke as soon as Anai's hand parted from his.
Anai did not speak again, though her smile hardly faded.
The others remained quite a time after her, equally silent, some more pleasant than others.
As for Janeway, she didn't dare ask about the hundred curiosities that last story had put in her--reviving several of the those that she'd put aside the day before. Knowing she'd get it soon enough, she put it aside for the time and instead watched Anai and Ara leave as they had twice already, two shuffling forms clutching their helpers' robes; then they noted the family's thoughtful, cheerful faces, and mates still entwined to hear the song of bonding. Slowly, parents began to gather their sleepy children, or stand with their sleeping babies in their arms and bid each other good night.
Janeway considered once again going to the Doctor for that sedative.
Looking over, she saw mostly pleasant, albeit exhausted, faces on her crew. Kes had tears in her eyes and an inward smile, still leaning back into Neelix's arms. Harry was helping Samantha Wildman to her feet, commenting on the end of that part, glad it ended so pleasantly that time, but wondering why Anai had sped through Tom and B'Elanna's adjustment to each other.
She certainly hadn't sped through much else.
"Are you ready, Captain?" Chakotay asked from her side. She nodded quietly, got to her feet.

"Anai!" he gasped. Clutching her bony arm, his eyes bolted open and nailed to the ceiling.
She was already awake, choking for her own breath as she tried to reach for the monitor, cursing its distance and her wish to keep it on the other table. Her lungs feeling as though they would collapse with but another breath, she almost broke down for the panic suddenly filling her.
"Ara..." Her voice trembled and croaked, she sucked a rasp, feeling his pain--searing pain that shot through her chest and down an entire side of her body.
He gagged again and she jerked a stare back to him. In the bright moonlight, he looked like a twitching corpse, gaping at her in desperation.
Not like this, oh please, blessed ancestors! But one more moon! Oh, spirits, please take us not yet!
Both his voice and hers screamed the prayer.
It seemed for a moment that it would yet be. But she would not give them that, so unfairly, not with their work, their promise, so close to completion. She had only asked that and had committed to the finishing.
None of the rest mattered but that--only that.
Or was it more?
Because it was still in their hands, Anai knew.
His hand squeezed again.
"Anai, we may not be taken yet..."
"Ka," she gasped, half a cry as she unwillingly realized they might.
His stare begged the point, pressing it further into her spirit.
"Release me, my love," she managed. "I shall...help keep us among the living. Please, Ara!" His hand flattened and she stumbled across to the nearby table. Clawing her way up, tears finally finding her eyes in the terror of possibilities, she hit the monitor. "Babaki!"

Kathryn woke to stare at her hand.
Well, at least I managed about six hours, she thought as she pulled her head up enough to make out the digits on her chronometer. It was better than she'd had in almost two weeks...by her perspective, anyway, and had done the trick.
She felt groggy, but good.
The near end of the gamma shift was not an unfamiliar sight; in truth, Kathryn had always enjoyed prowling the corridors at that time, when it was quiet, and especially when it was as clean as it had become again with a good deal of work on her crew's part.
It helped her think, helped clear her mind, to walk through the clean grey lines of her ship, sometimes even pretend it was her first day there all over again, so full of promise and purpose.
She'd always believed herself lucky to get Voyager. Certainly, she had campaigned for it, argued for it, worked hard throughout her career and felt in her most confident mind that she deserved it. In getting her command, to say she was a proud woman was a vast understatement. She'd sworn to excel in her sleek little treasure, hoped to see and discover, and to do so much more. Everything--her very career, even--seemed to be starting the day she first stepped onto the Voyager.
Pacing through those halls had always helped her recall that time, the hope that was all but utterly lost when an Ocampan deity snatched them away from their home. From then on, the purpose had changed and the hope became a determination.
She could walk and remember, though, and feel herself relax. Unfortunately, since the shuttle disappeared, the old trick did little to ease her conscience. She realized that she wasn't in the mood for thinking about hope and promise ultimately leading to... To what? she wondered, but drove at least the worst of it away with a turn in the corridor.
Also, like so many other early mornings of late, she found her way to the messhall, her other nighttime haunt. She paused to see Chakotay already there, though. Holding his tea between both his hands, he stared out to the glowing asteroid streams and that system's planets, thoughtful as ever...but more, too, likely for reasons she didn't have to guess about.
He turned a couple seconds after hearing the door and grinned, albeit slightly. "I thought you were supposed to be sleeping."
Her lips curled up as she went to the replicator. "I almost made it to the alarm," she told him with a shrug. Ordering herself a coffee, she gladly pulled the steaming mug from the slot. "What's your excuse?" she asked, inviting herself to sit with a glance to the space by him.
He gestured to the empty seat, though he wasn't so sure about the rest. Then again, he hadn't been certain of anything since his first vision quest, nor since he finally saw them in it...and then...
He looked at Janeway, crisply uniformed and indeed more rested. "Maybe it's my turn to have trouble sleeping," he hedged, choosing to stare out the viewport again, sipping his tea.
"So much for the school kid theory," Janeway replied, sharing that view. "But it all seemed like a natural progression."
"They did find peace there," Chakotay agreed. "It's good to know."
"Though not for long," she said, almost unwillingly so not to remind either of them of the ultimate end, having been left the night before with so much happiness. They all knew how the story ended, after all. Her gut knotted to think about it, in contrast to the contentment they'd found, that they would soon choose to sacrifice themselves in a way that would earn the Desalians' lasting honor.
Seeing Janeway's face harden, Chakotay said comfortingly, "They were married six years."
"It's not enough," she returned, her jaw tightening as her teeth met again.
"It was for them, if they really did believe in their spirits' eternity," Chakotay countered.
She allowed him that, even if she didn't personally believe it.
"Anai lied to them," Janeway said, shifting the topic. "She let them believe there was no way out."
"At the time," Chakotay said, "there wasn't."
"But she didn't tell them," Janeway repeated pointedly. "It was more than just letting them live up to the culture they were in. I had a feeling there was more."
"Considering their circumstances on both sides of the issue, I don't think it was as much of a crime as she does."
She shook her head, sipped her coffee. "Anai admitted it herself, Chakotay. She involved them and let them think they had nothing else, even on Uillar, because she knew she needed them. Perhaps it wasn't a terrible crime. Tom and B'Elanna were allowed to make their decisions, and as you had suggested, things did go well for them--very well."
Chakotay felt the pause after that. "But?"
"But there's more to this than the story." She sighed heavily, watching the steam waft out of her mug. "Not to say I don't like Anai," she added quietly. "I do--a lot. I like her family and the Desalians. That said, I keep getting the feeling that she's doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Withholding information from us so things can develop elsewhere. She's a master of her own intrigues, Chakotay. I'm sure she's acting for what she thinks will come out well for everyone, and I don't think she or her people would do us harm. But there's something... Like I said a couple of days ago: I can't quite figure it out, but something keeps nagging at me, and I don't know whether to feel for her and let her have her way or go back to demanding she tell me everything."
"So, we're back to day one," Chakotay observed, "except that this time, you know you can trust what she has to say."
"Do I?" Janeway asked, but shook her head at any answer he might have given then took another sip of her coffee.
Likewise, Chakotay took a long drink of his tea, letting its warmth fill him. Breathing slowly after it, he looked at the captain, noting her thoughtful expression, how her fingers curled slightly on the mug, her stillness otherwise. He looked at his own hands again.
"Since we found out about what happened," he said, "I've been trying to deal with it, too. It hasn't been easy." Janeway said nothing, though Chakotay knew she was watching him. "Yesterday morning, I saw them in my quest, but they wouldn't talk to me, answer me--they didn't even seem to know I was there. I talked to Sue and Kurt, but then they walked away. And then, just this morning..."
Janeway leaned forward. She knew she shouldn't, but the words came before she could even think: "Then?"
He looked out the viewport to the few stars that were visible.
They were similar stars to the ones he'd seen earlier that morning, when he walked through the forest, hearing the scraping and shuffling under the leaves. His guide having darted off again, he looked to those stars to find his way through the thick trees, though he didn't know where he was going...where to look.
"I know you're here," he said. "Please, I just want to speak with you."
High above, an owl flew from one branch to another and a deep grey moon began to rise somewhere beyond the thinning trees.
He saw two fleeting figures dart across a path far ahead of him then disappear. Speeding his pace to catch up with them, he found himself blocked by a thistle bush and so he turned around. A chirping, almost like laughter, shook the bushes then faded away.
He only wanted to speak with them, but he had a feeling even the rodents wouldn't tell him where they were. So he kept walking.
"B'Elanna? Tom? --Be'i? Toma?"
Then he saw a light...more, he felt it, drawing long shadows on the trees. Soundlessly, a white deer crossed the path but did not stop. He looked after the doe as it hopped away, quick yet unbothered by any of the presences there. At a clearing, it met its mate, nearly as fair. Together they paced to the river's edge.
"Chakotay," she said, an impatient note in her throat, and he swung around.
In a warm white light, B'Elanna stood with her arms crossed over her ribs and her lips slightly parted, as if on the verse of a response. She began with a sigh as she stared at him. Appearing behind her, Tom stepped in and put his arm around her, claiming his place by her side. His usual air of casualness was marked with displeasure.
They bore a full complement of kraja.
The mice were crawling around their feet, reaching up their legs, crawling over their boots. Another few birds swooped through the air behind them then took to the high air, avoiding the two and their light.
"Why do you keep coming here?" B'Elanna demanded. "We're happy where we are."
"You keep calling us," Tom said, gesturing the man to walk with them. The mice cleared the way. "It's distracting."
Chakotay nodded at Tom's silent suggestion and stepped onto a rough path with them. Creatures popped their heads from the trees to examine him, squirrels and burrowing birds; hares peeked shyly from around trunks or under bushes. Every time he looked at the curious denizens, his friends moved farther away. Their pace was quick and unmindful of his attempt to keep up. Tom grabbed B'Elanna's hand to hop over a fallen tree together. They passed over it weightlessly and continued moving away, their feet silent on the forest floor.
"Hold on," Chakotay said, "I'm not over yet."
"You all were our friends a long time ago," B'Elanna told him, glancing back as Tom led her around the path. She let her hand drift out to touch the head of a raccoon, perched on a thick branch, without slowing. "I knew you a couple years--you were a good person to me and I'm thankful for that. But it's not fair that you have to keep divining for people who no longer exist. You don't know us anymore."
Chakotay sighed, jogging to catch up. He would have stepped in front of them to slow them down, but the mice were in his way--and he didn't dare step on them. "I just wanted to see you, so I could come to peace with losing you."
"You might find peace in talking to the spirits," Tom told him, more mature and assured than Chakotay had ever known him to be, "but among our people, we go to the ancestors to ask blessing for the bonding--and only because it affects the realm of the spirits in the end. No, you're not among the ancestors here; you don't belong there yet. But you're sure making it hard for us."
"Have I disturbed you?" Chakotay asked. "Trespassed? Tell me. I need to understand."
"Yes, you've trespassed," B'Elanna said bluntly. But her eyes danced downwards before she looked at Tom, and then Chakotay again. "Look, we'll know if you really need us. In the mean time, leave us in peace. We've been granted that much for the promises being met in your lifetime."
Chakotay blinked a reluctant nod. "You're very missed on Voyager. I miss you. It's been hard to come to terms with that."
"People can be replaced," Tom shrugged and swung their path into the thicket, swerving around the trees and undergrowth there. "And it hasn't been long enough...for you, anyway."
Their light was dimming, but Chakotay kept up anyway. "Don't leave--not yet."
"You know all you need to know for now," Tom said.
"You'll be all right," B'Elanna added.
With no further warning, they skipped off, their light fading slowly away as they skirted behind a row of thick rocks covered in flowered vines.
On the other side, a white aura preceded them as they reappeared in their Desalian dress, his tunic and coat in deep blue and green with a brightly embroidered sash, dark trousers and robe; her pale green gown and the wine-red coat Sashana'i had procured for her: Their wedding clothes. The crown and some strands of her hair were braided with gold-tinted scarves and dotted with ornaments; his headdress boasted a wide plait braid on one side and amber beads dripping down over an ear to his shoulder.
They were beautiful, Chakotay thought, taken by their appearance as he watched them move, stirring the earth at their feet. A breeze picked up and uncovered the leaves to the dark soil below. They no longer addressed him, but knelt upon the clearing to offer their hands to the mice. All the conflict had faded from their faces as they smiled to their company.
Their light faded quickly; they shrunk then disappeared into the crowd of creatures they had been petting. Another breeze replaced the leaves, burying the creatures, who slipped underneath and away, into the thick.
Chakotay looked up. The birds were gone, the forest stilled.
All but the two deer, who had watched the scene, had left him there. Upon the return of his attention, they hopped back into the bushes. Moments later, even their sound could not be heard. A cool breeze in the high trees brushed feathery leaves, followed by a moment of utter stillness...
"Only allow the promise to be, should it be fated," came B'Elanna's voice in a Desalian inflection. "There shall be peace."
Chakotay continued to stare out the messhall viewport, feeling Janeway's stare burning into the corner of his eye. She had not taken to her coffee again, but waited for his reply.
He didn't know what to tell her, except...
"Do you remember what I said yesterday about being patient enough to figure out what the story means for yourself?"
"Yes," Janeway said.
"I've been having trouble with my own." He sighed, turned his eyes down. "To be honest, I think they wanted to turn away from us--or at least once they were there, once they knew we were out here, they had no intention of rethinking it once the war ended."
"I suppose I can understand that," Janeway said quietly, running her cool fingers over her warm mug. Shrugging slightly, she put her elbows on the table. "I know that Tom was still trying very hard to redeem himself, to get past his crimes...forgive himself. B'Elanna always seemed very confident, but it wasn't hard to tell she had some demons to work through herself."
"At least a few," Chakotay nodded. "But on Cezia, they had a home and acceptance and family there who loved them outright, with no expectation but that they came home for dinner, were honest with themselves and treated others with respect. B'Elanna and Tom both ended up doing a lot more than that."
"I can see why they would want to stay, even in the conditions of the time."
"I can, too."
"Where Anai fits into all of this is what bothers me," Janeway told him. "It's more than a promise to come clean with their history, Chakotay, to wait for us. Even she said it was, when I first met her after our visit to Uillar, said specifically that it wasn't anything nefarious--even scolding me for accusing her of having ill intentions."
"Knowing she lied outright to B'Elanna and Tom, though..." Chakotay started, opening the door for her answer.
"I don't like not knowing what to expect from people," the captain admitted, "especially when I come to admire them."
Chakotay thought about that a moment. "Maybe we'll find out tonight."
"I hope so."
He grinned mirthlessly, turned his eyes to the stars again. The haze of the Desalian sun was just beginning to fade them.
"So do I."
Janeway's eyes roamed out to the brightening field, to the few stars beyond them. Quiet there, yet teeming with life. For such a small region, they did have a large variety of life forms and possessed so much history, only a small part of it they knew about. But there was some they did...enough to wonder.
"Or," Chakotay added quietly as his eyes followed a ship's trail in the remaining darkness, "maybe it's time to stop looking."

It had already been a bad morning. It spoke too well of fate, Anai feared.
"I should not be surprised by your actions, Child."
"So, will you talk with him? He has a lot of questions, and he could probably help us fix the problem I'm having with--"
"Discussion is unnecessary. Should it be meant, it shall be; if not, then that is meant. The ancestors shall find Ara and me at peace in either stead."
The topic was ruining what little she could enjoy of the sunrise, which danced through the thin fir trees of the upper garden. Little indeed. She had decided to wander there while Doctor Gihora finished treating once again the worst symptoms of Ara's heart disease. She could hardly look at the playful light.
She too was suffering at that point. Ara's last episode had spent her terribly, partially through her sympathetic reaction, the other part plain stress. Earlier, Babaki had asked Doctor Gihora to perform one last treatment to spare them both of further pain.
It was only partially successful.
Nor would it be very effective, they all knew, though Ara insisted he have only a little more time, a few more suns to conclude their business. Anai felt her adoration beat afresh in her chest for his wish, though at that point, even she might not have had it. The treatments were very uncomfortable, even for her.
"It is but another piece of time...in this wretched body," he had whispered to her as Gihora prepared the regenerator's beam. With tears in her eyes, his hand held to her breast, she almost shook her head, but he spoke again first. "This is as dearly wished, my spirit. I spoke...less upon it, yet my desire was equal. This is known to you." A slight smile crossed her lips. "It is but another du'ave...among our blessed family. There is...little curse in this much."
"Ka, my spirit," Anai whispered then brought his knotted knuckles to her lips to kiss.
Thankfully, it was almost done. They had laid the steps for all involved. Their life's wait was almost finished.
It was nothing unique, such casual intrigue among Allanois, beginning a thing and simply allowing nature, destiny or the spirits involved to choose the remainder of the course. It had worked well before, Anai believed, had indeed been necessary. It would be relief that last time.
She was anxious for the evening, but she dreaded it, too, as she knew what tale she had to tell. The memory that had haunted her since acquiring it was coming very close to her and she still did not know how she would explain it, express that moment, when her beloved siblings passed beneath her fingers, when Be'i and Toma were extinguished in all but memory....
With a deep breath, she steered herself away from it for the time.
Presently, she had the young girl she and Ara had confided in, who had knocked on their door at daybreak, begging Anai's further tongue, not to mention interrupting her attempt at some peace after a terrible morning. She did not tell Kes of the trials of that past midnight, however. She instead pressed herself to remain patient while Kes explained her difficulties with the task appointed to her and confessed bringing in their doctor to assist her.
Perhaps I might have asked the security officer after all, the elder thought, especially as he had chosen to remain on board the Voyager and listen to the transcripts. The girl was too heavily involved in the telling, and her keen mind might well affect the doctor. Then again...
"I should think it was meant you did this," Anai sighed, blinking slowly as Desalia's sweet star warmed her old, fallen face. "Yet perhaps Ara and I were not correct in permitting such an ambitious hope to take seed. Nature itself is desecrated in the mere consideration of this plan. Still, now we see certainly what fate has decided."
Kes considered the elder woman carefully, hearing the genuine disappointment and yet the easy acceptance of that destiny. Both seemed right for Anai to feel, but Kes hadn't thought the lady would let it go so easily, not when it was still possible. "Anai, you're the one who said Voyager needed--"
"I bear awareness of my words," Anai cut in. Closing her eyes against the brightening light, she held her pained breath a moment. "Particularly after this past moon's painting, I must reconsider its worth. The moon they took their kraja, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres became Desalian, in both body and spirit. Their bonding sealed this path. This was what was wished; they had chosen to remain. In one manner, they passed to you at that point, when they became utterly of Desal. The resulting neurological changes are what bar a resurrection to Voyager in the manner we have specified, I ask you would tell me now. Be this the case, it would not be wished for and shall not be."
"It is by me," Kes said honestly, "--and the Doctor; it would be by the others, too, if they knew. You're the one who said that, knew that we needed our crew back."
"I also said we should not tear into spirits only now mending by creating a hope which is impossible," she replied. "I and Ara may accept that, Child. We shall not force this matter to be, insist on life when it is not meant or desired."
"But you've made me hope it can be done," Kes countered. "Can't you just speak with the Doctor, answer his questions? It would make me feel better knowing that we did everything we could. --And I know it would you, too. You've waited over a century to see if it was possible. Why give up now? That the Doctor and I are having trouble with the parameters you set up doesn't mean it can't be fixed. We only need more information."
She didn't answer at first, seeing the sun, so giving after so much time, so faithful to its own promise of life...so needed.
"I have asked much in my lifetime," Anai muttered, "even in this debt, now, it seems. I have indeed made you hope, Child, only to feel my mood stir my desires suddenly opposite." She drew a breath of the dewy air, stretching her sympathetically crushed lungs, begging for the life it brought. "Or perhaps I feel but tiredness. Ka'id, I do feel it. I do not enjoy it, yet it is truth."
Kes caught herself with that, nodding. "Maybe it's a lot for me to ask, too." She smiled gently at the woman. "The way you tell your story, I forget that you've held on so long. You really do make it live--in all of us."
Anai smiled, more to herself than her companion. "I bring forth what lies within myself and feel gratitude to know it communicates well."
Kes touched her arm, earning the old woman's heavy gaze. "Anai, I don't want to give up yet. Please don't ask me to."
The elder reached over for Kes' hand, pressed it against the waist of her coat in a small embrace. "It is a familiar sentiment," she said. "Your forgiveness, Kes. I bear an elder's way, and I bear my own nerve too, as susceptible to strain as any at times."
"Then you'll come?"
Anai peered at her. "Gye. --Yet, I shall speak with your doctor. Ara may not travel with me to your ship and my transportation could affect him poorly. A meeting over a channel may be arranged, however."
That was enough for Kes, who turned her hand to hold the elder's warmly. "I could have him talk to you now. It's still very early on Voyager. The alpha shift won't start for another two hours. Nobody else is in Sickbay."
Anai considered it despite its convenience. It truly had been an uncomfortable morning and was to be more of one yet. And yet, she had spoken truly...and had promised.
A chance remained, and there was no sense in letting that pass for her mere tiredness. Obstacles never had stopped her in the past, after all--or was she simply being stubborn? Perhaps a bit of all of it. More, the child she had trusted did truly wish it. Anai could feel that, feel the desire shining through the girl's pleading stare. Anai knew such a plea, such a look, and the cry that came with it...
"Assist me to my chamber, Child," she whispered, moving her hand to hold Kes' arm.

Upon first coming to the nebula for haven, they knew just from preliminary scans that it was massive, possibly stretching on for over a few hundred light years in that nook of the Delta Quadrant. Irllae, they had noticed when they scanned that area, was an even more interesting region not for only its temporal qualities. A thick disc approximately eighty light years across--a tiny galaxy unto itself, in a way--it was more like an astrophysicist's dream.
They had come to the correct conclusion that the myriad asteroid fields throughout the region were created by the sheer stress of the plasma waves, which had crushed weaker planets as the Barrier took shape. Several nebulae floated in Irllae, too, the result of other small star clusters being caught in the initial and enormous explosion, which had created the region. In all, it was an amazingly rich field of study.
Scientists on Desalia, Brija and Suresha had agreed already that the Barrier would someday fade, in about forty thousand years--Irllae time, Janeway surmised, and just over three thousand years in standard time. Thus, the instability of the plasma waves. They were burning quickly out. They predicted that the temporal variance--created by but not dependent on the plasma field--would stabilize a good deal sooner.
She almost wished she could be there to see it.
Why Janeway had waited so long to investigate those very interesting features of the region in any detail at first was beyond her. Of course, the good sleep she'd achieved the night before had really done the job in clearing her mind. She also felt she needed to step away from the situation she'd been dealing with--with her away team's fate, with her own feelings of responsibility and her questions about Anai's openly cryptic methods, the repairs on her ship, the mourning of her crew...
Aside from finishing the mess of reports she'd neglected, she had also spoken to Havetsi that morning. The young captain had merely meant to greet her as she transmitted the new supply lists from the Ki'ial. Janeway in turn asked about possible visits to Cezia and beyond after the stories were concluded. Havetsi answered with predictable enthusiasm, suggesting several nebulae Voyager might enjoy collecting data on--and most certainly, Cezia was a wonderful idea.
On that note, Havetsi helpfully transmitted in addition to the lists a full map of Irllae with all its data and points of scientific interest. There were more than even Voyager had found, it seemed, and as she decided she could indeed use a few hours' break from what had recently been consuming her, Janeway curiously poked through the files and the visuals, mentally sorting out what she wanted to read and in what order.
After she scanned through the various nebulae of the region, the Gozhor Jihap jumped out at her. The largest and most unstable in Irllae, the small but violently charged nebula that had been for over a millennia a vital power source in the region and bordered one side of the Unar homeworld. Like most nebulae, it had its own peculiar shape. It looked almost like a two-dimensional cornstalk from one vantage point, one central reed and leaves of gas arching out from each side, fading on the ends.
Janeway was taken aback as she viewed it for the first time from the angle of the Desalian file. Crazy as it was, it really did have the same shape as B'Elanna's cranial ridges. That much, indeed, Hychar hadn't been delusional about.
It still seemed insane to her that the commander would have acted so violently against B'Elanna for that alone--but considering how even the Desalian allies distrusted Tom and B'Elanna for being outsiders, she could believe Hychar would feel the same, in addition to what heredity had merely given her chief engineer.
In a way, though, he'd been right. B'Elanna, with Tom, had indeed become Unar's greatest curse.
What had Sashana'i of Cezia, a regent heir born in a refugee city, seen in them so strongly that she would base a lifetime worth of hope and dedication to them? Janeway wondered, staring at the image. In her stories, Anai had never confessed her own initial feelings--only later spoke of her guilt.
Janeway shook her head, though, reminding herself that she still had over three hundred files she wanted to glance through; by thirteen hundred hours, the new status reports would start to arrive for her review. She heard Ensign Kim mention that he'd downloaded some of the public historical files. She did want to investigate those natural resources, however, from which Voyager was getting their much-needed supplies...
As her fingers moved to advance the file, her eyes were glued on that damned nebula, a form of gasses that in a way had initiated the fate of her crewmembers, both good and bad.
Her fingers still on the soft panel, she drew her other hand out to grasp her coffee cup.

Anai of Cezia sat on the edge of her bed and let out her breath, painfully still.
The silence she had asked for was good. It eased her nerves. She needed that time.
To think. To collect herself.
The talk with the holographic doctor had gone on far longer than she had wished. His questions had been endless, bordering on the inane and completely useless at times, and then on matters that should not have been confusing the issue at hand. He was simply too curious for anybody's benefit. She corrected him firmly--and Kes, too--for making too many children of a mother. Even Ara, lying in the bed, fell back to sleep after waking for a time. Meanwhile, Anai swallowed her growing irritability and bore through the interrogation. Thankfully, the girl had finally intervened and ended the session, her own frustration held by a sigh of sympathy for the elders.
A minute later, she left to allow Anai to crawl up with her bondmate and nap until Havetsi came to rouse them, as promised. The short sleep had helped to take the edge off her exhaustion and pain, but even Ara suspected when he quietly greeted her opening eyes that she should have a bit more respite from the world.
She allowed their spirit-child to assist Ara with his dressing as they all three spoke, of Ara's attack, of Kes and her doings. The younger woman was not surprised at Kes' determination and was glad her elders had done so much. Of course, the children of their house had supported fully their maneuvers, seeing it as an adequate balance of fates--and a most interesting one at that. Indeed, they were children.
Then Havetsi informed her them of Janeway's wish to tour on Cezia after that evening's story. The elders shared a grin at that.
It was a good idea, in truth. Like with Uillar, it would give those who went some perspective. Humans liked to see with their eyes, benefited from reality reinforcing their education. They did not take on information as readily as Desalians. In any case, Anai took a moment to contact her daughter at the silag at Azlre and tell her she might expect their visit--unless their guests wished to be independent and prowl the city themselves. Mar'lli chuckled, knowing the party would likely become lost in the winding streets, but promised her finest treatment should they find their way to the square.
With that thought out of her mind, Ara prepared to spend time in the library and Havetsi gone to help him there, Anai finally took some leave to herself that day.
All she could make herself do, however, was sit on the corner of the bed and stare at the opposite wall. There was a mural there, a scene from her beloved Cezia, painted for her some years after their relocation to the capitol. It was the golden white rise of Mecrisop. It rose hazily upon the old plaster, accented by the fields at its feet, the lush silver and green grasses dotted with a patch of vine or daknas and the teal and amber forests on the first rises of the rocks.
She could see herself sitting on the edge of the field in the first flush of spring, her knees pulled up to her chest and leaning into her sweet bondmate's arms. There, she had sobbed too many years of strife away, shuddered with all the knowledge and memories she and Ara had taken in those hard times...that most difficult time...that terrible scream of dread and desire, chiseled into their spirits unto eternity...
It was also on the edge of the field that they had decided on their purpose and how to fulfill the promise that would a century later consume the oncoming days of their passing.
How she ached to see those mountains but one last time, as she knew it would please Ara, too, to sense their majesty once more. She thought she might ask for them to be taken, if only so she might feel the grass around her legs, breathe the crisp air, feel its nurturing sun upon her skin...
Only imagining it, Anai could feel it.
She wondered yet again if it was meant--or should be meant; then she shook her head at her tiredness and discouragement. Were it to be, then it would be. It was that simple, and it would not be much longer at all until they knew what path was to be taken. Doctor Gihora informed them that with Ara's last treatment, they could have another du'ave within body still, little more if that. This was more of a relief than a sentence to the ancestors--as it should have been. Indeed, they would embrace their passings with gladness and dignity, whenever it might arrive. Anai was certain of that much.
At least she would know that they had indeed seen them, told them, let them see...
In memories so ancient that they appeared to her like vivid dreams rather than realized realities, all would have called their actions unnatural, their silence, their plotting, their will, their promises, even if unto passing...
This was certainly no precedent in their house, however. Pulling her eyes away from the Cezian plain, she looked over at her memoir boxes, neatly lined up on her bureau. They were almost ready, with but one last thing to add.
She had made the child hope, after all, earning more debt, which she had not wished.
Still, Anai never had been a person to leave a debt unpaid, even if the actual value of the payment was questionable to the ones who would ultimately bear it and she could not say she desired it anymore.

Millennia ago, Unar looked at the skies and, some evenings more readily than others, saw a red hand of flames in the stars. At various intervals, those flames would blanket the panorama; the entire planet would be lit vermilion by the sun, maroon by the moons. Sickness and death, corruption of foods and crops often followed these occasional flares.
They called it the curse of Gozhor--the demon's claw.
The welts and burns caused by the Gozhor curse quickly inspired hygiene in the Unar, which included stringent powders, tightly bound hair and frequent changes in clothing. Women, more susceptible to the curse, were isolated for their protection, as were children. Daily inspections of their bodies were necessary, and several often-uncomfortable cleansing rituals needed be followed in order to guarantee purity and resistance to Gozhor.
To resist the cleansing was to accept the evil and filth. This possession of Gozhor, if not corrected by forced cleansing, was punishable by death. The execution method--a broken neck, usually via a blunt club--was a means of cutting off the gases of Gozhor's evil. The burial method was cremation, with the ashes consigned to a reserved dung heap.
For a good deal of Unar history, this theology was forefront, even after advances in medicine and science allowed better treatment of the "curse" and their latent talent for philosophy grew into a true cognitive science. When Unar braved space travel, they resisted their curiosity to go within while studying the phenomenon. Like an old sailor's myth, they simply avoided it, just because.
With time and experience with other races, however, the Unar gradually began to accept that Gozhor was simply an inconveniently placed, photonically charged nebula that, when more active, released a good deal of radiation into the Unar system and indeed lit the night sky with fire.
Other races who that studied Gozhor assisted Unar in furthering their awareness. Desalia, for instance, seeing previous attempts at the same fail, donated an advanced array with which they could better predict the surges and thus prepare their people. The Unar government in power at the time made themselves thankful for the generosity of their neighbors and enjoyed a rich trade with them. After more time, some Unar took to living on colonies within some of the safer niches of the nebula.
In certain sects and communities, however, those traditional beliefs in the curse of Gozhor continued. Those factions were, in fact, the ones who had found their way into power after nearly three centuries of stable, friendly relations with the other denizens of Irllae.
Janeway barely realized that her coffee cup was cold and nearly empty as she finished reading the general history of Unar's Gozhor. Glancing through the sub-topics, she decided to touch on them some other time.
The ancient theology did not resurface again after the Irllae resistance. Rather, Unar society had become relatively progressive during its restructuring. Like Desal, it had looked to its finer past, to a peaceful and educated philosophy, and moved forward from there. This was no easier a task for the Unar, however, as all its colonies had been decimated in the last years of the war, and needed not only to restore its worlds, its trades and resources, but its former views and reputation. Solid, progressive leadership had been a key to that in the beginning; it was credited as the cause for the Unar's eventual recovery.
To that day, the Unar still used the array--though upgraded through the centuries--which had been given to them by a Desalian regent called Rallese'i...
Janeway looked at her cup, considered it for several seconds before standing up to go to the replicator. On the way, she paused, and then looked back to the console. Chakotay wasn't expected to report back to Voyager for another couple hours, and she still had some time before the next reports would come in...
She tapped on the wall panel. "Coffee, black."

It was strange, the silence of the house.
Havetsi, too, was quiet when she greeted Chakotay at the door and led him through the front quarter of the house to join her tola in the library. Her eyes were more downturned than usual, though her back was straight and her smile seemed real.
Like the house's aura, she seemed tired.
"I hope I'm not disturbing anything," Chakotay said politely, glancing at Ara, who was buried in a thick, square book at the table, silent save his cluttered breathing.
"Gye," Havetsi answered. "It is but a sun among us and we were scheduled to meet. You are welcome to remain and may seat yourself. I shall bring tracha while we wait for Nali to bring herself to us. Then we shall take ourselves to the laboratories, should this be agreeable."
Chakotay furrowed his brow. "I thought we were to be there at noon."
"Ka, this is my understanding, as well. Nali shall bring herself soon." She touched her temple again with a small nod and gestured toward the table. "Please sit and I shall serve you in my tola's name."
"Chakotay, zharab'llar'os," Ara breathed from his seat. "Good Havetsi, I would take tracha as well."
"As Nali is not here to supervise this?" she returned. Her tone was light for his benefit. He truly appeared wretched, though not so bad as earlier that morning.
"A mere glass is permissible," he told her, playfully petulant to humor her.
It did its work: She smiled. "Tola ka. A glass shall be brought for you. --My friend, I shall return shortly."
She disappeared a moment later. Ara said nothing more.
Chakotay meanwhile looked around the library for a place that wouldn't disturb the elder. Then again, to sit far away from him might be an insult--though he correctly believed the Desalian wouldn't take it personally.
The library, a dark and richly hued gallery filled with volumes on all its walls, was lit only by a few table lanterns and narrow, blue-tinted windows between the shelves on one side. In the corner by the door, a bowl of incense puffed several thin trails of white smoke, hanging a woodsy aura in the room.
The old man, buried in the finely embroidered yet simple robes of a scholar, seemed quite at home at the low stone table in the center. Halfway reclined to the side, his bony feet, wrapped with indigo cloth to his shins, were jutted out and crossed. His kraja marked hand lay on the table, twitching; the patterns on it were still discernible within the heavy wrinkles and tan blotches. The other hand was poised to turn a page.
Chakotay felt almost as if he were in the chamber of an ancient sage.
Finally, the commander chose his seat, a row of pillows adjacent to Ara and about two meters away. He did so without much noise, though he essentially had to get to his knees before settling down on the soft mounds.
He heard the man cough lightly, but when Chakotay looked again, he saw Ara huddled undisturbed over his text, occasionally dipping his hand into his heavy headdress to lick his finger with a grey tongue. Seemingly content to keep the silence, his trembling finger pressed another leaf. The page crinkled as clearly as the water in a wall fountain trickled...
...Like the waterfall in the forest and the leaves underfoot, the slivers of light from the creamy moon and the deer...
Chakotay blinked the image away.
Finally, Ara breathed; his lungs gurgled on the air--and he cursed it under his breath.
Then the air all but died again.
Chakotay did not mind the return to silence in itself, but it was somehow overpowering and increasingly distracting in the formal room with the elder. For Anai's presiding over the storytelling and many interactions among the crew, they did not know Ara as well, but plainly, the regent looked very ill that day. He had barely looked up but in his initial greeting. He seemed to be getting through his book rather quickly, however.
"What are you reading?" Chakotay asked, offering to break that silence.
Ara pulled another breath then swallowed to hold it. "Yet another story, Child," he croaked. "A story of lovers."
"A romance?" the commander asked, having expected something completely opposite.
Ara coughed a laugh. "At my age, for lack of ability otherwise, I must find visceral pleasure." Receiving no response to that, Ara shrugged slightly, having not expected the young man to say anything to that. "My lady and I shall once again enjoy each other. And yet at present, good man, I long for her with this useless body." Still, the man sitting across did not speak, only nodded, so Ara thought of another approach, one that produced a wry little turn to his mouth. "Shall you hear of this story, Child? It bore great importance in its time."
"Please," Chakotay asked, indeed curious. The hundreds of volumes alone on those shelves seemed, at least to his eye, like a small storehouse of history that Voyager had yet to learn about those people. Only slowly had Anai been teaching them as well, unpeeling layer after layer of the spiritual and cultural mores B'Elanna and Tom had immersed themselves in, which remained a strange but pleasant surprise to Chakotay.
"I read of lovers," Ara said in an epic breath, "separated by fate and birth, yet always known within their deepest spirits that they are one. A laboring family is hers, and thus in the degraded regency, she is unable to rise to her beloved's status. --This was not naturally the way. Yet when greed crept through Desal, the practice of stable social ranks was not unheard of, as you have heard in my bondmate's paintings.
"From afar he watched and loved her very spirit as his own, and yet his duty to his family resigned him to incompleteness. Yet can our spirits be denied, can our nature be forgotten? The two met secretly, revealing their passion in the shadows, tasting of each other their desire and adoration, until she was full with his child. Upon their discovery of his affair, his bonding was arranged by his family to separate him body and spirit from his lady. In the shadows, his escape was made, and he fled with his mate to the wilderness of Gavllorst, where their daughter was brought into the living world. There they found scholars who secretly bonded them, made them one. In this, their lives, so distant, were made into an equilibrium, with great beauty, purity and promise.
"Poverty and joy mixed their life afterwards upon Gavllorst, until his family found him again. He faced them humbly and yet with great strength, made his claim of his spiritually bettered life and returned with his bondmate to her family--his family through his bonding--who cherished him and their child. He worked with hands thereafter, happy, yet ever aware of his origins. Never blaming, he accepted and believed his life was meant by the blessed spirits. It is a fine depiction of the times."
"Was it written before the occupation?" Chakotay asked.
"Ka," Ara answered. "In the day of its publication, it was considered controversial. Ivlisa was the author's origin; our first colony had not conformed as completely to the more stringent laws that had reigned upon the homeworld. The novel inspired a mass of discussion--many questions of Desal's way."
Chakotay nodded thoughtfully. "A man escaping from his duty to his family and breaking the social ranks--it must have been a powerful statement against the cultural biases operating then."
"It was," the old man confirmed then added, "However, Child, I only read the tale for the eroticism."
The commander closed his mouth, not knowing whether to take that with a laugh. Though, he couldn't help but be a little disappointed in the highly honored scholar's reply--and wondered at it as well. Or maybe Ara was simply teasing him--a thought that annoyed him a little, as he had sincerely been interested.
Finally, he was saved by Havetsi, who swiftly returned to the dark room with a small tray of steaming mugs. "Have you yet tortured our good man, my dear tola?" she asked wryly, setting the tray on the table before moving around to attend to her elder. "Ab, Chakotay. You need not keep such space among us. Your distance is respectful yet unnecessary." The casual noise she made in the warm, somber room as she went about her work seemed like further desecration of its aura. "I'e ma'i Tola vrucillosch y'eyachoj ga'ahl?"
"Glorr' a'a chajisch ka se'ill, me vdra'i," he chuckled and coughed, giving her his hand to clutch her fingers. "He does not admit to reading erotic literature, I would think. This must be his own peculiarity, as Derra often proved his acumen in this genre when asked--boasted, more, I should think, when Yasis was not near."
That time, the commander cracked a small laugh. "Kurt did like to talk about those Ferengi romances he'd pick up."
"As Toma possessed great fondness for his relating their details," Ara said, the lilt in his voice both amused and sincere. "This genre sounds most interesting."
Chakotay's grin remained. "When we transmit our literary databases to you, I'll see you get a volume or two."
"You are a good child," the elder said approvingly.
Havetsi helped him to sit up with her gentle, practiced hands. "So you have been darting our guest's humor, my honored spirit-father." Leaning in to kiss his cheek, she set him to his drink and returned her attention to her guest, stifling the remainder of her snickers for the business they rather needed to discuss. "Chakotay, I have wondered on your samples from Uillar while within. Have you found conclusion in them?...Vi akich. --What is meant, that you are satisfied with your findings?"
The commander didn't miss the look of regret that Havetsi offered with her casual question. Though it stung, he understood well enough that such a grim thing to Voyager was only the passing of spirits to her. She was still respectful of the difference, albeit belatedly. "The Doctor is still examining the DNA fragments, but he has confirmed that they are Torres and Paris'."
She bowed her head. "Zha hevrre. For what does he examine them still?"
"He's interested in the effects of the benozine on their systems," the man answered. "It's detrimental to humans, and he was curious about the treatment they received. If it helped them, it could help us if we encounter those conditions again. The Doctor wants to investigate the trisiptic compound your people used there."
Havetsi thought about that. "An inquiry shall be taken to our physicians. The agent used would be known to them."
Chakotay nodded his thanks. "I was going to ask if you might. The Doctor can replicate it, but it's not as good as the real thing."
"Then a fair supply shall be procured," she told him, "or the means to create your own with better accuracy. In addition, I have contacted my comrade from Antral, Captain Mihalin. He shall bring the dilithium and the remainder of the deuterium you require in three suns, as requested by your captain."
"We appreciate it," Chakotay said. "The captain is anxious to finish the repairs..."
Leaning over the table again, Ara flipped a page and let his eyes fall over the text as he heard the businesslike tones coming from the commander and into Havetsi's equally business-minded ear. Ara crooked his head to it, but despite his being tempted to add his comments to their "briefing," he retained his silence.
It was very good eroticism, he recalled as the familiar words found his memory--good enough to make him keep only half his attention on the others' conversation, which had gone from shield arrays to warp theory in another minute.
What Ara had also not mentioned just before was that the book was in fact from Anai's collection, given to her by Bakali, long ago, to pass the time while she had remained in wait of childbirth. Their twin girls, he remembered with a secret smile, recalling, too, the pure beauty of his sweet Anai as she held their daughters in both her arms the first time.
Once, they had accepted being childless, their family as but among others, their people, who needed the most care. But then that most adored blessing of nature became possible, one after the other. To that day, Ara wondered how fate had managed to fit not just one, but two within his bondmate. Miracles...
"Your systems are interconnected interestingly. Yet it has been our practice to train the electroplasmic discharge to yti'ave hrif rapol to assist in recycling the energy and increase efficiency," Havetsi stated.
"That's lower, right?" Chakotay asked, having not gotten the translation for her calculation. She nodded. "We have similar recycling processes. But with Voyager's configuration, that kind of energy distribution wouldn't be enough to keep all our systems at full power."
"This is why Desalian ships maintain their power structures fully independent yet able to accept the other system's energy when required. It requires additional labor in development, yet it is more efficient in completion."
It was odd to him. Ara thought he might be more interested to hear of their doings, of their ship. Certainly, it had been a very long time since he had acquired his memories of them. To hear it, their common sentences and their inflections, to see them, feel their presences, seemed before as very worthwhile. Indeed, it was rather unreal, like a premonition come to life. They were as any other with a duty and a conscience, however, while full of sorrow for matters they could not have prevented.
The commander, of all men, would not speak of it, but of technical matters--as was a good officer's way. He and the other crew had maintained their facades as well as Ara and Anai and the rest of the family had been subtly circumspect. It was the same way with officers as it was with Allanois, it seemed--and all for good reasons.
He wondered, as he knew Anai still did, how her painting would conclude that moon. It was the last cycle, and Anai had grown unsure, nervous. He too felt anxiety, particularly after his episode last night. Admittedly, they both were worn. Even after meeting again with Kes, and then Voyager's doctor, and having been inspired again from their panic early that morning, they had looked at each other and wondered...Should it be?
Yet they had promised. They had promised and they themselves had hoped for completion, even when it seemed not to be. They bore their debt without fail, nor the slightest regret. That was not the difficult part.
They thought they knew precisely how they would set that wish into action. Of course, reality tended to change one's dreams, Ara knew all too well. They had known what troubles Kes and the ship's doctor would bear in their task. They might have known the girl would press the issue; they might have known they would come to feel for the crew as they did, would sympathize so with their losses.
He was surprised that the others did not seem to suspect their plotting. Or perhaps they kept that hidden, too.
It would be no less than fair.
Now that it was finally pouring into his ears, Ara found the commander's information increasingly dull. Of course, among all the memories contained within him, he could recall great boredom, too. It had been a complaint at times, among others.
Perhaps some other topic would interest him more, some other time. For the moment, the first joining of Vasa'i and Trylla would do. Choosing a good page to stop upon, he carefully took the mug between both his hands--Havetsi had thoughtfully filled it but halfway--and drank.
"Your tracha, Havetsi, as always, brings pleasure," he said upon swallowing and grinned to feel her youthful hand rub his back in thanks.

The Desalian Regency had been an active force in its people's ways for over sixty-five hundred years, the way Janeway was interpreting their measurements in time.
Several different family lines ruled over the centuries, the first widespread leadership beginning with the Mashij, a benevolent central force of culture among a nomadic people living on the massive northern continent. A cousin to that family erected the first silag and began to share their philosophy of spiritual oneness and connection between the land and the spirit world. This combined with a stable, gentle fatalism that yet allowed some free will encouraged an accepting but liberated society. It quickly caught on, unifying the people with incredible speed.
This philosophy spreading down the plentiful rivers and across the seas to smaller continents of equally nomadic peoples, Desalian culture found a sense of unity in times similar to Earth's Medieval Age and within seven hundred years.
The Desalian penchant for learning and natural curiosity was another binding force among them, as many citizens of varying trades found themselves searching their spirits in the silags, curious of the prichava's meditations and methods. Also naturally generous, the prichavas opened their teaching to any who applied. The regents, learning this, openly approved and began to establish places where such learning could be mastered--and attended regularly, too.
From that beginning, the scholarship was formed near the end of Mashij family's leadership and was brought to its present state almost two thousand years and three regencies later by the Ji'ibran. With that came the beginning of Desalia's long golden era, a period of over one thousand years, in which industry and technology, all largely water-powered, began to find advancement among their increasingly well-educated yet simple, gentle people.
The Kova'enll family, nearly fifteen hundred years ago, saw its people begin to explore their local space, though there seemed to be no great rush to do so. To Desal, such exploration and the later colonization of nearby planets only seemed like the next thing to do. It was then that a series of mores and preconceptions began to naturally reform with the new discoveries, making it also an era of intense philosophical debate and a fear of losing Desal's long-loved cohesion and traditions. These were not the easiest transitions--but in relation to great changes in Earth's history, they were handled with a great deal of peace and maturity. More, the Desalians seemed to enjoy the chance for talk and learning.
By the time Desal began to discover new races, in the first years of the Zezhembe Regency, they had even worked out their own sort of "first contact" rule of thumb as they gladly toured through the region now called Irllae, or "blanketed realm," peeking into everything they could without disturbing their "nature." Almost a century later, they were pleased to meet the Iaskeb; soon after, the Antral became allies. For almost eight hundred years, as other races in the region--the Unar included--found space and met each other, that golden era continued, straight through the Schricha Regency.
All these regencies enjoyed great peace and prosperity. Its leaders lived with great respect yet among the people, never a power in the strict sense of the word, but a unifying force, a "desal," which in itself meant "one who brings together--or is one among--the community." Even so, very slowly, the regent eventually rose to a level above their citizens, partially because their citizens had put them upon that pedestal. As scholars themselves, their advice was sought; slowly that advice became increasingly significant, their word more prized and their life more valued. They yet ruled well and fairly from that vantage until the Unar began to assert its own changes in temperament.
The Allanois Regency was a product of its time. Having inherited a regency that had resided too long in comfort among a people slow to change, seeing a threat it knew not at all how to handle--the steady change on Unar--it accepted its given power and used it. Unfortunately, after Sharana'i and Mi'ejara, the first and long-lived leaders in that line, that influence was used ineptly with their former allies, mainly through concerted non-interference.
Da'ili, their gentle daughter and blood heiress, however, was blameless but for her lack of strength and inability to balance her bondmate's more forceful and impulsive nature. A solid ruler in the first half of his and Da'ili's reign, Mi'hida's preservation of unity in the last half failed only with exile--a brutal fate among their community-driven society--and succeeded with privileges given to those who went along with the regents' policies, or simply did not see it for what it was. His son, Troka, continued that policy in his ten years as regent.
Only Yusi, the unwilling bondmate to Troka, resisted openly her mate's policies, knowing that as much as he had forced her into his life, he could not rid himself of her, either. In her thirty years as "regent heiress" and ten years as co-regent, Yusi was most noted for her charity and protection of "radicals," her public pronouncements and support of Da'ili before the elder's passing. Her failure to turn Desal's ways in time resulted in her brief escape with their teenaged son, later called Dulla, on the day of the Unar attack. But only three months into their exile, they too were captured and sentenced to an Unar labor camp called Satrif. A few months later, Yusi reportedly died in a shack, an hour or so after her bondmate was beaten to death.
Almost two hundred years after the Allanois ascension, that six thousand year old culture was brought down not only by the Unar, but also by those who created and tended it, and even those who had so embraced peace and acceptance. The Desalian record was quite clear about their shared responsibility for the terror that nearly consigned them to oblivion.
Feeling her death approaching, Yusi passed on the Allanois legacy to her son, who six years and two assignments later was deposited in Sacezia. There, he fell in love and bonded with Aneschi, lived an ostensibly simple life as a day laborer, secretly earned his scholarship, promoted the limited scholarly instruction, or "spiritual training," to keep that important aspect of their culture in tact and patiently planned the regency's resurrection. The executor of his designs came in the form of his granddaughter, Sashana'i.
"Come in," Janeway said, several seconds after she heard the door beep the second time. She glanced up and gave Kim a small smile when he entered. "Yes, Ensign. Please come in."
"I have the preliminary deflector analyses you requested, Captain," Kim said, trying not to peek at the colorful display. Though, the way it was angled, he could clearly see it was one of the Desalian files.
She noticed his glance. "Thank you," she said. Before he could try to excuse himself, she continued, "I've been skimming through some of Desalian history. There's quite a bit inside the summary file. Have you read it yet?"
"Yes, Captain." Kim finally let himself see the words. "The regencies?"
"And the advancements placed under their names over the years," Janeway nodded, reaching for her coffee cup before recalling it was empty again. She lowered her hand. "Fascinating that they have never had a war before or since the Unar occupation, considering the way it started or the bureaucracy of their central government. I don't think humans could have been as gentle as these people have been."
"Have you read Anai and Ara's policies?" Kim asked.
"No," the captain answered. "I think that's in another file."
"If I may make a suggestion, you might find it interesting, Captain."
Janeway looked up to him. "Really?"
Harry broke his recent mood and his usual formality to grin at what he already knew. "They did a lot."
"I just might, then," she said, smiling to see him lighten if only for a moment.
Peering at the monitor as the doors closed behind Kim, she set aside the PADD he had delivered.

Havetsi cut her conversation with her guest the moment Anai made her presence known--more precisely, stood at the library door and waited for her bondmate to rip himself from the throes of the literary lovers long enough to smile at her. When their grandchild moved to pay her full respect to her elder, however, Anai only held up her hand.
"Be at peace, Child," she said, a bit lightly for everyone's ears. "You witness no miracle of fate."
Havetsi laughed, nodded. "Nali zhi'akli."
"Hzall ya'i zhal," Anai said, reassuring the girl, then asked, "You shall take yourself past Tibrrad on your route this sun?"
"Ka. Bear I an errand, Nali?"
"A note to Brymare'i, should there be no inconvenience." Eyeing Ara's tracha, she opened her mouth to comment, but only shook her head and went to write the letter.
Chakotay was about to greet Anai, but saw her back before he could speak. Then Havetsi skipped away. With a shrug to himself, he said goodbye to Ara, who seemed properly oblivious to the women's quickness and nearly deaf to the commander. Sighing to himself, Chakotay stood and moved out of the library to find Anai activating a stylus and pulling a piece of paper from a small writing table in the corridor.
It was a real pen, he noticed, a slender oval stick carved from stone with a triangular point. Her hand shook with the effort, though she got the job done rather quickly. Curiously, he peered at the small, sweeping letters, dots and flourishes, vertically placed in dark red ink.
"Your people have a beautiful handwriting," he commented.
Anai glanced back, focusing on his eyes before returning to her letter. "I shall teach you a portion, should you like, when my duty is past."
"I'd like that," Chakotay said, more softly for the look she had given him. Rather knowing, it seemed, even in that second. Then he reminded himself that as a possessor of both B'Elanna and Tom's memories, she would know everything they had about him. It was strange to think she could concentrate and see him through their eyes. Or that was how he had interpreted it. For all her "paintings," she hadn't explained that part of herself, maybe because of the traumatic nature of her first acquiring the ability through her grandfather at such a young age, maybe for her unease about how she got her self-named siblings' histories.
As though she had read his mind, Anai dotted a few lines, made what looked like a signature and set the pen in its well. "Be'i's memory of you were fond," she said as she folded the paper with trembling fingers, "among recollections of your interests in anthropology, in ancient histories, among other matters. A museum on Maha'aje, when you are not as occupied, may interest you. My nephew Edjilla bears years near your own and practices his trade in your interest. He would take you, when I have taught you your name."
"Taught me my name?" Chakotay asked.
Anai pressed a seal on the note then drew a few characters in the bottom corner. "Chak is standing water; oah is a trunk, referring to a tree and yet is used loosely; teh is strength as material sturdiness. You are the tree which flourishes in the lake...which may be taken in several lights, yet is complimentary in any manner." Choking a giggle, she pushed herself to stand on her unwilling legs. "You shall be taught to write your name, as all Desalians properly learn first in their education."
"Again, Anai," Chakotay said, grinning at her offer as well as her unabashed innuendo, "I'd like that."
In acknowledgment, she simply bowed then crossed to look into the library again.
Chakotay barely felt the air she moved in passing, though she was both quick and near. Following her with his eyes, he watched her bony, tattooed hand press upon the jamb, the letter between her wrinkled fingers. The remainder of her was but silver locks and braids pinned up and pulled back with downy scarves, a finely embroidered violet coat cinched neatly over her gown and dark leggings. It all stood before him like a portrait as she watched Ara, who continued to read undisturbed.
Feeling the silence again surround him, he would have asked her, at least broached the topic with her, but then Havetsi returned, swiftly draping her robe over her coat and taking the letter Anai held out to her. As the women said their farewells for the day, Chakotay decided to ask her about those memories another time. With a polite bow of his head, he followed Havetsi out.
Anai watched them leave, holding up a hand to her temple when Havetsi looked once more to her then moved into the library. As she neared, Ara finally looked up.
He appeared as tired as she felt.
She lowered herself onto the pillows beside him, reached out to stroke his cheek. Shakily, he brought his hand up to take hers; then he pressed her fingers to his mouth, closing his eyes. His lips moved just enough to kiss; he breathed just enough to take in her perfume. Anai reached out and drew him to her. Gladly, he leaned over, his eyes still closed as he tried with traitorous arms to hold her properly.
She did not need to ask to know his mind, but smiled gently, stroking his markings as he pressed against her breast. Caressing his trembling form for some time, she turned her head to kiss him. His breath caught at the gesture. Then he took another.
"All this time," he muttered, "and I bear no care for this fate we tend. Their lives shall turn to but danger and violence again, their world is but a shell of a home in cold space, barren of nature's truth. Hope rises too highly and thus disappointment too commonly finds them. Were it not for our debt..." He sighed the rest, knowing more words were unnecessary.
"Ka, my love," Anai whispered thoughtfully. "Similar thoughts filled me while speaking with the hologram, and pre-dawn when Gihora came to us." She paused. "The girl's outstanding hope may be the greatest difficulty. It is for that I am most reluctant."
"You may discontinue at any time, Anai, should you feel it is not meant."
"My spirit, this is known. Yet the painting should be completed."
Ara sighed in a thick breath, nodding minutely. "Ka, this much is meant, and then it is done and we require only fate to speak. The spirits shall bear us truly in the end." With an effort--and her assistance--he pulled himself upright. The shadow of a smile crossed his lips as he regarded his lovely bondmate, how her eyes lit with both concern and acceptance. "When we are passed, it shall be known, Anai, that we have fulfilled all we have taken unto ourselves."
Anai nodded, relieved to have heard him speak what she truly had wished to hear. "Ka. And upon our passing, we are liberated. Fate shall tend to the remainder."
"At last."
Smiling slightly with her nod, Anai reached out to have a sip of Ara's tracha. It was cold, but good.

"In this blessed time, let us be like the newfound seed upon the fields of Desalia: May we embrace our mother stars and spread our life's promise across the lands, become as we were truly meant to be. Let us, with humility and patience, recover in body and spirit all that our ancestors made in us and for us; let us learn the ancient way again and be exalted in our truest spirits. We give our bodies and spirits to you, Desal, utterly, for but this wish."
So went the first officially recorded statement of Ara and Anai after the war.
It had been a brutal time for all involved, but especially Desal, who had no experience with such slaughter. As the Unar began to learn from its enemy, their battles began to draw out into days of hunt and search, fighting to the last. Even Unar's practice of punishing disabled ship crews was put aside for the time. They would not be crushed by the filth they had sought to control.
The resistance would not be thwarted, however. Thanks to the regent siblings Be'i and Toma, the patience of their allies and their own growing creativity, they also learned and revised methods and means and became accustomed to their sacrifice. They doggedly chased down Unar supply and war ships, disrupted its inside trade lines, destroyed its communication relays, remained in asteroid craters to watch and attack passing cruisers, ignited nebulae when Unar chased them in and refused to pull back once a front was drawn. They fired upon Unar ships without provocation. They plotted intensely and followed through stubbornly.
They took prisoners: The Koba in particular took to the practice; Desal sighed and turned its head to whatever happened to those wretched Unar after that. Desal asked for fairness and the Koba instead had revenge. The Antral were also known to be rather unforgiving. Sashana'i had been recorded by the Brijan at the time as reluctantly accepting it as a necessity for their people, even while strongly suggesting their allies should not make Unar hate them too bitterly, else prolong their struggle with more retribution.
In this manner, the hard fought battles and carefully staged campaigns continued, slowly, painfully, pushing the Unar lines back. This continued for six increasingly violent years, until a major success at Desalia-Four was doubled eight months later by an invasion of the Unar System. This brought down the Unar's already crumbling leadership and depleted sect system. The war ended upon that victory.
With that done, Irllae had the enormous job of recovery.
The day the regents ascended into the scholarship--the very day after the fall of Unar--Ara and Anai of Cezia were summoned to reign over a people desperate for leadership and progress. They came to Desalia, just as Anai had told her, to find it but the filthy remains of its former glory, and so they started from the bottom and worked their way up. The comprehensive list of edicts following their arrival clearly indicated that approach, and it was presented to their people like a sprawling roadmap. They all knew the destination, but very few outside the regents' circle were aware of the actual route.
After claiming their places on Desalia-Four, taking care of that world's immediate physical needs and securing the similar recoveries of its colonies, they rolled up their sleeves and got to the next stage of recovery with the continued help of their captains, their elders and their worn but hopeful citizenry.
Reconstruction would not have been possible without those "decrees," however. Their people revered their passivity once--and likewise clung to their regents' words and ways, waiting for their direction rather than taking initiative. All too aware of those well-learned mores, Ara and Anai used it as kindly as they could to get Desalia where it needed to be, starting with that first speech and continuing with many requests, some of them more difficult to follow than others.
Their interior work began with the rebuilding of the Institute of Desal and the massive effort to reeducate the population from the primary school systems to the advanced trade academies. This alone took a generation to accomplish. Meanwhile, Desalia's technology and ship fleets were resurrected while its recovered databanks were slowly but surely pieced back together then stored with the utmost caution. The system of recordation quickly became a most vital science again. The arts, liberal and land trades, too, were immediately encouraged, supported and developed. Holidays remained largely public and eventually turned into structured festivals that brought regional communities and towns together for a few days at a time, much like it had before the occupation.
The Allanois leadership itself reestablished itself with a great deal of branching out--or useful delegation. For the regents, the prime ministry had been secondary in political importance only to the reestablishment of the scholarship as an arm of government. The latter was an easier process, though it would take more time. Unfortunately, Ara and Anai soon discovered the extent of their sway when it came to Desal's traditions, particularly during that delicate beginning. Changes in old ways were simply unfathomable outside of Cezia, or perhaps Ivlisa--if even then. Installing a prime minister with any real power to represent and enforce policy outside the regency was therefore no small affair.
Seeing their people's resistance, the regents cleverly corrected themselves and called the ministry simply a representative of the regent's court, and then publicly requested Gihetra to speak for them on matters of state.
Many of their beginnings involved several such "adjustments"--stretching an old thing then reshaping it into something more effective and efficient. Though it was not completely honest, it produced the desired effect: Prime Minister Gihetra was accepted as a courtier of the regents.
In time, that meaning was slowly adjusted to what Ara and Anai had initially wished--an official voice at the Worlds Council and for Desalia among their neighbors. In the past, the regents had cared for those relations and claimed too much power and influence because of it. The prime minister, a high scholar who was elected into the post and worked occasionally with the regents on domestic matters, was a means of diluting that control and maintaining another perspective.
Janeway chuckled softly at that part of the summarized history. They'd thought out the best way about getting what they wanted and patiently let the dice roll while continuing their subtle manipulations--and repeated that method elsewhere as needed. Very like how Anai operated.
To Janeway's mild surprise, Ara had been the one to write the final treaty with Unar. He had also arranged the tenets of the alliance that later became the Worlds Council, a development he was also drawn into. That time, however, he was not so ambitious. The regents had set up the prime ministry to handle those regional affairs, after all. By design, his work was to be centered at Desal.
For his people, however, he capitulated and assumed both positions for the first two decades following the council's creation.
More surprising was that Anai had been the one to assist the Unar's new leadership. The same woman had cursed Unar that first day at the Institute and had admitted she did not enjoy their company but would work with them. Obviously, a century ago, she overcame her completely justified distrust for enough time to help them recover.
She and Ara were not as forgiving in other matters, however. Trade with Desal's allies was carefully controlled in the beginning, as was the demilitarization of the region. Anai of Cezia decreed that: "Should violence be done to another within Irllae, be assured that this shall be met among Desal with equal treatment upon the offender. This shall need be our strict policy until we all may control ourselves in a manner which befits our advancement."
Janeway's brows rose to read that: It was as radical a statement as ever might have been voiced by any Desalian.
Ara's similar decree on their allies' transactions with Desal, some years later: "Corruption within walls of trade shall not be tolerated: It bears the stench and cause of the occupation--greed. All honest requests of commerce shall be accepted at Desal by the prime ministry; any infractions shall lead to that people's removal from the merchant league for a period of one revolution of Desalia-Four. Their government may choose to deal with that dealer as it pleases them to."
Well, the Worlds Council *had* asked that Ara give his thoughts to the initial arrangements--and they got it, Janeway grinned to herself. As she read further, she learned without surprise that the regents had their ways of finding those criminals. Mihor and Koba suffered embargoes twice each for the careful eyes of their chosen "courtier."
There were thousands of files of their policies for their allies and their own people, written and adjusted as needed over time, but basically achieving the same goal: The restoration of the "old way," the true spirit of Desal and Irllae. At the same time, a few necessary "corrections" were slipped in over the years, in order to balance their traditionally bureaucratic power structure and help prevent future stagnation.
It worked.
In their century after the war, they were firm and gentle but always busy leaders, working side by side with their citizens in academics, technical trades, community affairs, public debates--and raising their six children to do the same. Though, by the time of Babaki's birth, Irllae had recovered sufficiently enough that they could endeavor to live in relative normality despite their rank and wealth, and they did so as humbly and prosperously as any other large and highly educated family. By their account, they achieved a fine balance of ways.
Around the time of their first grandchild's arrival, they slowly, unobtrusively extracted themselves from their initially powerful positions, allowing their people to once again think for themselves and rely on the scholarship and ministry, the teachers, prichavas and elected ambassadors, for justice and spiritual guidance. The regents remained a center, a voice of reason, example and community--as was the true way.
For their dedication and sacrifice, their people revered them. They had given the entirety of their lives and consciences to Desalia and to Irllae. As was written on the entry wall of the Institute of Desal: "For the children, we are the earth in desire and the sun in conscience, having looked to the stars for our guidance. This must be for the future of Desalia."
They maintained their careers and active scholarship well after Ara began to suffer heart disease at a youthful-spirited hundred and twenty years. They retired only two years ago.
When they passed the legacy on to Havetsi and Cera, the regency would at last be what it had originally been--a unifying force for Desalians. Not a need, but a guide, not a power, per se, but the regent again became a respected member of the community who would bring people together. They among others had also firmly impressed upon Desal the lessons of their people's blight and resulting war to prevent the corruption that made their life's work in the first place. By the look of it, their people did not take a word for granted.
Janeway leaned back in her seat, her mouth turned up. What a life they had led, what a world of change they had made and seen.
Her smile faded.
In about six hours, they would hear the remainder of the story, the end of one history that would lead to the dynamic one that she had just read.
Then she really would have to mourn her people, who, if not for the regents' honest love for them and undying conscience, could have been considered pawns in the Anai's massive ambition to die with Desalia restored.
Then again, it was for that future that Tom and B'Elanna had striven. According to Anai and other accounts of that night in Azlre, Janeway's former officers had pleaded their desire in public council, gave everything they had to see Irllae's freedom become a reality. No matter how the desire to fight for Desal had started in them, whether revenge or just having nowhere else to go, or even Sashana'i's influence, Janeway did believe by then that they would have wanted it as much as their adopted people did. If she'd been there, she would have, too.
Her people, gone, consigned to a noble death a century ago. When she had first heard it, every bone in her body had rebelled and scorned the loss. In some ways, she still did. That they gave themselves body and soul to the war to never know what their work and influence had helped produce was perhaps a fact of life in such a dangerous time, but was also a gross injustice.
Janeway drew a breath, pausing as she finally, honestly knew, it had indeed been better that Tom and B'Elanna had ended up in Irllae. She hated it, but it was the truth.
Little wonder Anai had insisted on telling the story. It was the only reparation she could make for that incredible, tacit favor she had asked of them.
Or was it?

They stopped along the way to the laboratory. In another half-hour by his time, Chakotay was scheduled to meet the Brijan ambassador and pick up the rest of what Voyager needed to begin their repairs, and they made good time with the woman's pace. Heading west and down through the middle of the busy city, they came to a dense park of flowering trees and a wading pool. Passing it, Havetsi suggested they venture through instead of around it.
"My errand asks I take myself to the catacomb entrance briefly," she said, turning to cross the street. "You have not seen our wading pools, I should think."
Looking at the barelegged people they approached, Chakotay grinned. "Not yet."
Indeed, on Desalia, a wading pool seemed entirely fitting for their people. Citizens came, often at their midday rest, to remove their wrap shoes, lift or roll up their gowns and trousers and wash their feet in the sparkling waters, which was fed by a crystalline aqueduct at one side. They came to bathe, but also to socialize, and sometimes they came to meet prospective lovers.
It was where Havetsi's parents had met. Both careered outside the scholarship, Beshelli was a respected data recorder; Koluba was a technician working on a science vessel and only just happened to be passing through the city. It did not take more than two glances for them to know of their attraction, nor more than two nights for them to consummate their desires. Throughout his quarter on Desalia, in fact, they continued to act upon it and became a much spoken on couple in Desal.
From this time came Aveketatsi, much to their surprise, but also their pleasure. The two, always rather liberal in their own right, thought it romantic that they would have a child spring from their passion alone, without any desire to bond. For that matter, they were just as pleased they had it in them to mate so quickly. Indeed, when he lifted his newborn daughter to her mother's belly, there was nothing but sheer pride and surprise in the man's face. They spoiled the girl with their love accordingly.
The lovers continued as such for some time, possessed fully of their finely tuned separate lives, longed-for and passionate reunions and their beautiful little girl, whom they openly called their greatest achievement--to Prihar with humility in that respect. The little girl, also a product of Ara's house, only giggled at her silly parents before proceeding to go about her own way.
Havetsi bent to the edge of the pool and dipped her fingers in the water; then she caressed her temple with the wetness. "My tola--my father of birth--bore much love for this park. I have always brought myself for that I might feel his presence, his spirit as it was when he brought me." She glanced up to the commander. "I was but a girl when he met our blessed ancestors."
Chakotay watched her in the pleasantly solemn act and remembered the deer again, crossing the path. He blinked, but couldn't get rid of the impression, the way she was bent before the water, her fair clothing and fine, white scarves over her long brown hair, a portion of which she held from the ground in her graceful fingers...
"Forgive me for being a little confused," he ventured, "but do your people believe that the spirits of your...passed ones remain here or in the stars?"
Havetsi smiled. "Ka, you have been confused. The presence felt is what my tola gave to me, the memories in my being, in my memory. His spirit lives among the stars, watches us grow and become and awaits our presences without time. I should think he would bear pride, as I embraced many of these things as would any self-willed spirit."
He continued to watch her as she rose, seeing a distant cast to her eyes. He realized just then how similar it was to the peculiar awareness he'd noticed in Anai earlier and the other scholars of that world. "What is it like," he asked, as softly as before, "to have someone else's memories running around in your mind?"
"Running...around--around what within us?" Havetsi laughed, but held her hand up to excuse her giggles. "I beg your forgiveness, good man, as your people's way of speech is at times amusing to us." Seeing the commander's smile of acceptance, she lead him out of the park, through the thick, soft conifers. "It is not 'running around,' to begin. When another's memories are placed within a recipient, they are very carefully ingrained into our far memory--not conscious, present thought. Is this understood?"
"They're put in your long-term memory and not your immediate consciousness?" Chakotay ventured.
"Ka, this seems correct." Havetsi paused, thinking of a way to explain it best to an outsider. It was not a simple matter, as it was difficult to teach the same to an untrained Desalian without example. "Until one is of the scholarship themselves--or a particularly adept mid-novitiate--the procedure must be performed for them, and the scholars take precise care in their act.
"In bonding, the memories are both connected and woven. The procedure requires much experience to be performed with any ease. When it is another's memories, they are placed in sum at the base of the recipient's far memory. Yet at first, it is like...waves upon the shore, pulling at the sand in each tide. It rushes up upon you then ebbs, leaving its impression upon your mind. When one becomes accustomed to the presence, it becomes like...a book you know in every character, or a program you have seen so repeatedly that every detail of the story is known. Olfactory and tactile memory also are recalled."
She eased aside a final branch to return them to the street, back into the sun and to their brisker pace.
"It is difficult to have you know as I do," she continued, "yet it is a fair analogy. In essence, the added memory becomes a part of you. Your being is changed and balanced by it in your bondmate; you are added to when it is an archived memory. However, most scholars bear but a few lives within them--which would include their bondmate's should be so joined. High scholars, archivists and family leaders bear more."
"How many?"
"It is not uncommon to bear thirty, though we yet rebuild our way in this. For three generations, our practice was not possible. My family's is one of but fourteen legacies that survived the occupation. When the Allanois legacy is given unto Cera and me, we shall have inherited twenty-nine family lives--Nali and Tola included--among several others in addition, such as the good elders Bala and Bakali, and Susik and Derra and the like, to add to the few we carry at present. Cera and I have prepared for this honor and gift for two rallkle--two of our years."
"It must take a serious course of training," Chakotay mused, "to supplement your telepathic abilities."
"There is an innate predisposition to telepathic ability, yet we are not born with this ability," Havetsi corrected him. "Our neurology is heightened by the kraja, yet a scholar's skill is indeed a trained art. Meditation, the centering with one's spirit then with others', and then diligent study, are some of the practices by which we bring ourselves to our greater awareness."
This at first surprised the commander, but then he thought about his own vision quests and how that might seem to someone who had never looked into their soul as deeply. "You mean even I could learn it."
"There is potential," Havetsi answered thoughtfully. "Much time would be required, as you are not accustomed to the practice, and a bearing of kraja. Yet the ability might be developed in you with proper dedication and patience."
They came around a façade heavily covered with vines. She bowed quickly to a group of elders standing by then spotted a woman within a heavy white cloak, who waited alone. "A moment, please," she told Chakotay and hurried across the boulevard. Pulling Anai's note from her coat pocket, she placed it in the elder woman's hand then touched her temple respectfully. The elder smiled briefly, patting Havetsi's cheek in thanks.
As Havetsi skipped back to him, Chakotay watched the old scholar glance through the note, blink then move quickly away.
Though curious of what that was about, he politely didn't ask. Instead, he followed Havetsi the rest of the way to the laboratories, thinking, oddly enough, on rustling leaves, slivered moonlight and feeling a fair sense of relief when their talk returned to the business that brought them in the first place.

"*Kim to the captain.*"
Janeway pulled her eyes away from her monitor. "Go ahead, Mr. Kim."
"*We're almost ready to begin the next transfer. Commander Chakotay has transferred all the supplies to the cargo bay. We're going to begin recharging the deflector grid on schedule.*"
"I'm on my way," Janeway said, feeling some certain satisfaction when she ended the communication.
It was about time--though that time had been blessedly short. The deflector had been running on emergency power alone since they came through the Barrier. Had it not been for the galacite and deuterium, among other raw materials donated to Voyager's cause, the full repair they had planned might have taken a couple months. They could have gotten by on a patch job, but it would have been susceptible at best. Any decent Kazon ship might have taken the deflector out with one good shot.
More satisfying still was seeing the crew working so smoothly together. She knew that her people would need time to deal with their personal loss. Kim, an easy gauge for the general morale, had been downright morose. His smile earlier in her ready room had been a great relief, as his face had been like stone since their first day on Desalia. He had been one of her finest officers during that time, though, putting aside his grief to get Voyager back on her feet.. Likewise, Carey had easily sacrificed his needed rest and time to readjust to get the engines back online.
She had commented to him the day before on his tiredness as she left engineering--as if she had any right but as captain to talk. Carey shrugged as a grin found his fallen facade. "It would've made B'Elanna nuts to see the systems ripped up like this."
Janeway shared that smile. He was absolutely right--and she could still hear B'Elanna barking orders left and right and staying up one more hour for just one more system--and then another. Those who loved a ship, whether a captain or an engineer, were all fair game.
As she looked around engineering, buzzing with life and reports from deflector control as the coils were recharged, she had a feeling B'Elanna would have been pleased with how things were progressing--
"Lieutenant Carey, I am reading a surge in the deflector control's EPS relays."
He glanced over to Vorik, who in Nicoletti's usual space was calmly trying to assess the problem. "Must be overloading the nodes," Carey said. "Shut down that relay and I'll divert the transfer through the main array. It'll be slower, but safer."
Janeway nodded. That sounded correct. Voyager hadn't had such pure supplies for over a year and she knew B'Elanna had compensated for that. Those transfer relays didn't need the boosters that were in place. Why they weren't removed earlier would be a question she'd have to ask later.
"The relay junction is locked," Vorik reported. "I have attempted to override the pathways, but they are not responding."
At the first beep out of the computer, Janeway moved forward, tapping her badge as she walked. "Janeway to deflector control. --Shut down all main power relays and discontinue the transfer."
"*They're not responding, Captain. We can try to manually override the transfer protocols but--*" A sharp whine cut the crewman off, which in turn was interrupted only by the computer's warning of a possible rupture in the power shunt.
"I'll override it from here," Harry announced, his fingers punching on the panel, diverting and cutting pathways until he too saw the result of it. "Captain, it won't respond. The power transfer is caught inside the deflector grid relay system."
"Captain!" Carey said, staring at the screen in front of him. "It's not the relays. One of the deflector coils is looping back the transfer--"
"--And doubling back into the relays," Janeway finished shortly, cursing the rest under her breath and she found a panel and started working. Another warning came from the computer, but she ignored it. "If we don't stop this transfer, we'll blow the entire grid out. Shut down the deflector and vent the unaffected relays."
"*Chakotay to the captain. Captain, we're reading an overload in the deflector.*"
"A section of the deflector has locked up. --Lieutenant Carey, target the defective coil and beam it off Voyager."
"I can't get a lock on it, Captain!"
"Divert power to the transporters," Janeway told him.
"Coil stress has risen by a factor of four," Harry reported. "If we boost the annular confinement beam, we might cut through the interference."
"Do it!" Janeway ordered as she glared at her readings. If she could have run to deflector control in time, she would have. The power levels were still rising exponentially... "Override the safety protocols and target the grid itself," she croaked. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but better that than replace an entire department along with ten more crewmen and the entire deflector.
Below on Desalia, where she and Chakotay had been curiously monitoring the transfer, Havetsi also stared at what she saw on her rapidly scrolling display. Reaching out, she tapped Chakotay's comm badge and nodded to his reaction. "Captain Havetsi to Captain Janeway. --Allow me to transport the affected assembly. This can be performed from my location."
"*The field is too unstable to get a lock,*" Janeway argued.
"Our transporters are superior to yours," Havetsi countered, glancing to Chakotay then back to the controls. "It is within our grasp now; it shall be transported to Duvrid, our second moon. The high magnetic factor of the satellite may prevent complete destruction."
There was a slight pause--then another sharp whine. "*You have my permission,*" Janeway finally said, her relief mixing with the remaining exasperation and shot of confusion.
"My thanks," Havetsi replied, understanding the captain's tone. However, there was a time when a favor was more important than pride--and the younger woman was glad Janeway knew it as well as she had come to. "The assembly is transporting now."
On the other end of the comm, a noticeable silence filled engineering. Havetsi and Chakotay might have even heard Captain Janeway let out her breath. Then, "The transfer has stabilized. We're shutting it down."
Chakotay heard the defeat in the captain's voice, but chose to let it wait while Havetsi still tapped commands into her systems. "How is it?" he asked, unable to read the display she was working on.
"I assess it now," the lady told him and nodded a moment later. "Ka, there has been a loss of four primary coils and three relays; the others have been separated and incurred no damage. They may be refitted and reinstalled."
Janeway continued to stare at the monitor, that time at the readings and telemetry Havetsi was sending to her. From the laboratory, Havetsi had managed to nip the affected coils and relay assembly out of the deflector, transport them about seven hundred thousand kilometers away to a magnetically charged moon--and then work on them enough to stabilize and separate them.
"I'd love to have a look at your transporters someday, Captain," Janeway said, wryly for the irony of her situation. A hundred and ten years ago, after all, Desal was committed to herding goats. They certainly had recovered where it counted.
Predictably, Havetsi was both gracious and humble. "*Desal's technology is the elder, good captain, and likewise bore fine teachers. It pleases to share our blessing with you. I do bear regret, however, that I had not before. In part, this is my responsibility.*"
Janeway couldn't resist her smile, even with her engineers hurrying around to commence their new round of repairs. "You and your people's generosity has been far more than we've known in this quadrant already, Havetsi. Thank you."
The communication ended soon after as Havetsi completed her work on the parts she had beamed to Duvrid; then she glanced at Chakotay. "Would it please you to return to your ship now? I shall be contacting my crew and taking the Ki'ial to recover your missing equipment and the fragments. We may share the walk to the transport."
Chakotay blinked his stare away from the monitor. "Please."
With a nod, she transferred the data to her ship and moved to retrieve her robe.

One of the children brought two tiny F'dehll gasks home from his play at the gates. They were the last two in a litter well past nursing, and the young lady simply wished a good home for them. Having run to his tola to ask if they may choose them, young Llichda proudly carried the puppies into the yard, much to the delight of his many cousins--and to Ara. They had not had household gasks for several years.
The pups scampered over and into the little stream that drained from the pond then proceeded to knock over baskets of trimmings, but even Anai could not criticize the quickly dirtying yarnballs. Their bright green eyes and happy little licks easily seduced her. She only warned Llichda and the other children to be certain they did not eat the fish in the pond and that they were cleaned before being permitted in the house. Her elderly commands given, she tossed the gasks a handful of cheese scraps she cut for them and asked Ezya to procure a wire brush from the replicator for their thick amber fur.
The pups were glossy with grooming and fattened with cheese, hard bread and joth milk by the time they heard some recently familiar noise from the street outside the garden. As the gate was opened and the greetings came forth, Anai noted that a rather relieved party had brought itself to the garden that late afternoon. Havetsi and Cera arrived with them, the former having also returned from her ship and apparently meeting her bondmate at the Institute on her way home.
As she supervised the selections her grandsons brought from the kitchen, Anai's brow rose to hear the comments between the tired Voyager crew. Though happy that they were able to repair the problem with assistance from the Desalians at the station and on the nearby Ki'ial, they were still chagrined that it had happened in the first place.
"Before we knew it..." was a common phrase, as was, "couldn't have predicted..." Even Voyager's captain and commander exchanged, "next time, we'll take it apart completely," and "the adjustments we'd made," and "I'm glad we were able to re-modify the deflector at all, considering."
Despite the curiosity her keen ear had brought her, Anai finished the serving table in good time, glad to feed the needy crew, to settle their stomachs and assist in comforting their excited day. Nevertheless, when she took herself back to Ara, who was propped up against a tree with the puppies sleeping on his outspread robe, she motioned Havetsi to kneel by them.
"What has happened upon the Voyager?" Anai queried.
Sighing, Havetsi relayed the unlucky yet ultimately productive day in as much detail as she could express briefly, causing both of the elders to scowl.
"That was preventable," Ara said first, his fingers still curling on the back of the little gask's ear. "They had not borne the preparation to properly commit to such power transfers."
"They bore impatience," Anai agreed. "Plainly, a rerouting of the intake array and polarity stabilizers before the transfer would have corrected this--after a thorough analysis of the entire deflector, of course, to assess its condition. They must not be faulted, however. Their former engineer was strident in her maintenance and caution and had taken much control to herself. Her authority had ever been a sensible choice for others."
Havetsi nodded quietly. "Yet the systems are repaired this sun."
"You have assisted?" Ara asked.
"Yes, my spirit-father. I and my crew were additional laborers."
"Good," he replied, a smile of approval marking his lips. Had he more power in his arms, he would have petted her nearby knee, too. But he stroked the gask again instead, grinned at its sleepy growl. He peered askance to her in his next thought. "It is curious why the defective assembly was not simply transported away from the deflector."
"It was," Havetsi answered, "by myself." She nodded at Anai's sudden attention. "The Voyager's transporter systems are not to be compared to our own. Aside from the basic transference of matter and material, they are rudimentary devices. This was not seen so clearly until this sun."
The elders stilled to think on that, sharing a knowing glance. Praising their grandchild again, they bid she return to her bondmate and take her evening meal.
Anai stood soon after Havetsi did, moving with the small tray she would share with Ara to the buffet. On her way around the table, she eased herself near the wearier of the two captains there.
"Kathri," she said, choosing some slices of sirril for Ara. He had been through enough that day that he deserved his favorite sweet fruit. "Havetsi has informed me of this sun's events. I feel for the trouble you have borne and for the additional labor you have been caused."
Kathryn gave her a small nod, though the other woman wasn't looking at her. "Thank you. But we've fixed the problem. Next time, we'll avoid that."
She watched the elder move her fingers to an assortment of flat breads, spotted red with some sort of vegetable. So simple, so humble, Janeway remembered, her mind finally straying from the business of the ship. Though, she certainly hadn't forgotten their first meeting, nor the deference Babaki had displayed at the shrunken, creaking elder's presence. Anai could be formidable when she felt the need to be.
More, knowing more about what it must have been like for Anai, who had been born into a poverty most Federation citizens could not imagine, losing all her siblings, her parents and then her grandparents, her freedom and innocence, and finally the siblings she had adopted and into whom she had placed all her hopes. This was on top of being saddled with the unflinching goal of Desalia's restoration for over a hundred and thirty years, meanwhile keeping her spirit and good temper in tact. For it all and despite her misgivings, Kathryn simply respected the hell out of her.
"What are those?" she asked quietly, pointing at the little red spots.
Anai smiled. "They are irrod--a citrus peel kneaded into the dough for flavoring. You may be pleased with it, Child."
As Kathryn looked again at it before politely choosing a small portion of the bread, Anai stole a longer look at the woman. The circles were less apparent in her eyes, but the strain showed. The embarrassing failure of her planned repair to that essential system on her ship had taken more out of her than she would ever admit. The discouragement and the question of how to adjust her crew to their loss must have reappeared quite readily in her darker moments that day.
Anai had no doubt that in time they would adjust. Would it be in time? The Voyager would leave them and the Outer Barrier nebula and fly back into the claws of those who had made themselves violent against the solitary ship. And past that wretched space, who could say what other terrors awaited them?
Lost of crew, of experience and talent, their plight would be that much more difficult. Anai knew this as well as any simple fact, and she certainly knew the feeling of discouragement, of hopelessness...
Reaching out, she stroked the younger woman's arm. "It is meant you shall be well, I would believe, good lady," she whispered then moved herself back to her bondmate with their tray.
Ara did not need to ask when he saw her expression, particularly when she slipped some portions of their meal into the pocket of her robe. He nodded unobtrusively and pulled his hand away from the gask. "Yet bring the sirril in a cloth," he told her, a familiar old lilt in his tone as he cut his stare to her. "I should wish it."
She laughed quietly, glad to hear him improving with the day. Doctor Gihora had done well with him, indeed. "You are most adored by me, sweet Ara," she told him and motioned to a nearby Osna for his assistance as she extricated Ara's robe from the pups. "We require a moment more amongst each other before the painting this moon," she told her youngest child's bondmate.
Osna did not resist helping his elder-father to stand, though he did peer wisely at them both. "And where shall you take yourselves to rest?"
Anai barely smiled, though she wanted to. Osna, eighth prime minister of Desalia, had dealt enough with the Worlds Council and with his regents that he knew an unspoken directive when it slid around his feet. Though like many others he had been concerned about what reserve the elders had employed of the family since the arrival of their guests, he had also seen their devising for what it was and understood.
"The study shall be adequate," Anai told him.
"And private," noted Osna.
"Ka, Child. It shall be."

"We shall have transferred the appropriate components and bio-matter at your request. --This may be taken to your security officer, Child, for inspection. He shall likely be a fair voice in the further analyses, and he would bear the necessary authority to procure what changes are required."
"All we may and need share lies with you now, the remainder of what we may do," Ara told the two in the viewscreen.
The Doctor nodded, offering a small smile. "Thank you."
"Yes, thank you," Kes said. "This really does mean a lot, more than you probably know."
"Gye, Child," Anai said, "its importance is known. Despite any result, then this promise is meant, and was more wished upon its asking than shall be known by you." Straightening, she met the hologram's and Kes' eyes in turns. "Despite our trials and stubbornness, Children, for your sakes we wish you good fortune and wellness. More, no difficulty on our parts is worth denying you a hope we have already inspired. Fate shall see its worth now."
With but another nod from Ara, she cut the communication.
Kes blinked heavily in her misted eyes, trying her breath to slow her relieved heart. Beside her, the Doctor did not move but to reset the monitor. "We'll talk to Tuvok tomorrow," Kes concluded, collecting herself quickly. "Or I will. I'll make an appointment to speak with him."
The Doctor furrowed his brow. "Tomorrow? Why not now?"
"Tuvok is on bridge duty right now. And..." She shrugged. "I really want to hear the rest of the story."
He watched her start away, lighter than she had been all day--or yesterday, for that matter. "Kes?" he asked, diverting himself with his center console before she could turn back around. From hat posture, he barely glanced her way. "I'd like to see a copy of the transcript--in case there's anything there I should know about."
Her smile grew. "I'll bring it for you."

The torches flickered, just beginning to dominate the light in the yard. The conversation echoing inside was quiet yet cheerful. As always, Anai blessed it, those happy sounds in the garden she had Ara had spent years cultivating for just that purpose--those gatherings Bala and Bakali claimed to have taken for granted. Within but a few years, they had returned the garden to the way it had been before the war--save the opulent fences and other indulgences. The nature, however, was just the same.
Their dear elders did love their last fifteen rallkle among the living, spent in their home and that blessed place of family and community.
Ara and Anai felt the same for all their years there.
They appeared just after the dinner was completed, accepting Babaki's cheerful greeting. Anai embraced her youngest child fully then nodded for her to assist Ara. Then she eyed Havetsi, who eased herself near as the elders made their way through.
"At sunrise, as you journey to the Institute," Anai whispered, "take yourself again to the catacombs. There shall be another letter for you to take to Brymare'i. The Voyager requires transporters of worth and I would see the finest they are permitted to possess be adapted to their ship."
Havetsi grinned. "Nali ka. I shall suggest this to Kathri, as well--a captain to another captain should inspire less embarrassment."
"My thanks, good child." Anai returned her smile, but hardly felt it when she saw the dais approaching her. With all her duties completed but that, she again had to return to the one, that last one, that she had wished forever, yet forever had dreaded.
She yet did not know how she would finish her painting; the thought alone sent chills into her spine, made her pulse jump. Ara's hand drifted out and touched hers. Her fingers immediately wrapped around his.
Should it not be meant... she thought, and then breathed through her sudden anxiety. The garden gate opened; in the corner of her eye, a quickly moving Neelix told her who had brought herself at last. She stilled herself with all that her training had given her, save examining the reason for her anxiousness in itself. She knew well enough what was the cause.
"You shall begin, Anai," Ara gently told her, "and then it shall be completed as you see fit. Let it bring itself by nature's path, my spirit. No error can be committed through this way."
Anai breathed a quick, deep sigh. "Ara ka."
Not once in all her years of painting words for her family, her people, had she ever known such feelings as she placed her foot onto the cool, white stone of the dais. She had rather always been proud to perch herself there at her bondmate's side and open the minds of her own to the lessons and blessings of the lives she had seen, heard and learned and even experienced herself at times. It had always been a privilege of her survival, accomplishments and burdened spirit to turn Desal's heavy past into a blessed teaching, the distant past into a near one, or simply give various matters meaning.
She tried to feel it then, that humble pride, as she turned and looked out upon the faces that had come to hear her, who looked upon their elders with regard, respect and expectation, and from her family, love.
It was for them she did this, too, she reminded herself. It was for the benefit of their spirits, for them all, their children, for Desalia.
It was also for her and Ara's own consciences, she knew without shame. But to what extent?
It was not for her to know until the moment came, of course.
After helping Babaki seat Ara, and then touching her child's temple, Anai lowered herself to sit, pulling his hand to her thigh and closing her eyes as the silence filled the garden.
High above, the tiniest breeze stirred, rustling soft leaves. Then it faded away, coming and going like a spirit in passing. Anai breathed the sweet air it brought.
"Many stories within this one have not been told," she began, the creak of her voice betraying her intended softness. "Some of my steps shall be placed there this moon--lightly, however, as not all of my knowledge has been granted a full telling.
"As spirits walk through the forest of the living, paths diverge and wind away. They may meet, and then cross away yet again, at times perchance, other times with questionable welcome or farewell. On any of the paths chosen, however, entirely new foundlings and flora may be taken as our own, and for that do our blessed spirits continue on, even brave the rough thicket to find the clear pond, the mossy earth and the seedling. The traveler alone judges the worth of such a journey. In continuance, we invariably shall always return to the crossing, and perhaps next view a tree..."
She opened her eyes and found the commander's wondering gaze in her view.
"...for nature destines the roots to spread..."

(continued)
Chapter 8 | WP Main
October, 1999
� D'Alaire M.