Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Ensign Murphy picked up a tray and passed by the table Lan was sharing with Rebecca Sullivan, Lan tried to keep her glance discrete, but when she turned back to Sullivan, it was clear she’d failed.

“What?” Lan braced for impact, turning her attention back to her lunch, which was a surprisingly tasty Vulcan soup of some kind, the name of which had completely escaped her.

“Nothing,” Sullivan said, in a tone completely disagreeing with her words. “It’s just been a while since I’ve seen you eye a man like you’d maybe like to dip him in your soup.”

Lan looked up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Hey,” Sullivan raised her hands, smiling. “No judgement. Murphy has broad shoulders, good hair, nice smile… and you know those Starfleet science types are smart.” She pointed one finger at Lan. “And you like smart.”

Lan leaned forward. “Okay. So, yes, I find myself a bit… interested.” She blew out a breath. “But I keep second guessing everything I’m feeling right now.”

Sullivan’s teasing smile slipped. “Because of the symbiont?”

Lan nodded. “Ensign Murphy reminds me of a man Pasha Lan knew, and didn’t find annoying.”

“Didn’t find annoying?” Sullivan squinted. “Is that… good?”

“For Pahsa? It was practically a crush.” Lan put down her spoon. “But seriously, this whole symbiont pregnancy memory stimulation thing? Everyone is reminding me of someone else, and it’s certainly making me see people in a different light.” Lan was suddenly glad she and Sullivan had made time in their usually opposing shifts to meet for a meal. Talking to a friend who understood the situation was something she treasured right now.

“Even me?” Sullivan leaned forward. Rebecca was rarely playful like this, and Lan couldn’t help but give in to her mood.

“Even you.”

“You have to tell me.”

“Dolay Lan had a particularly enjoyable weekend with a dabo girl on Deep Space 9 once.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened. “You think I could be a dabo girl?” She sounded inordinately pleased with herself. “Maybe I missed my calling. I bet dabo girls don’t have to patch up engineers who let their attention drift while they’re using cutter beams.”

They both laughed, but then Rebecca got a look in her dark brown eyes that Lan recognized all too well. A meddling, intrusive look.

“Hey, Zandra?” Rebecca said, leaning far enough over to catch Lieutenant Zandra Taitt’s attention. The chief science officer was having lunch with Lieutenant Stadi. “Do you know if Ensign Murphy seeing anyone?”

“My Murphy?” Taitt said.

“Yes. Smiley smart science Murphy, not brooding stern security Murphy.” Sullivan was clearly enjoying herself.

“I can’t believe you,” Lan said, covering her eyes with one hand.

“I don’t think so,” Taitt said, smiling herself now. “I can ask.”

“Please don’t,” Lan said, turning to face the other two women. “Sullivan has lost her mind.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Taitt said. “Always the one to bring coffee or tea to the lab when we’re working on something.”

“He brought slices of apple pie the last time I was crunching astrogation numbers with Baytart and Bronowski,” Stadi added.

“He brought you pie?” Sullivan said. “Okay, if you don’t ask him out, Sahreen, I’m going to.”

They all turned to look at Murphy, who had his food now and was sitting and chatting with Ensign Macormack and Ensign Bennet.

“He’s playing wingman for Macormack,” Stadi said.

They all turned to her, and the Betazoid raised her hand. “I’m not reading his mind. I overheard her asking him if he’d join them for lunch. I think she’s trying to figure out if Bennet is interested.”

“Am I the only person on Voyager who hasn’t lined up a date?” Sullivan said.

“You do spend a lot of time with the holographic doctor,” Lan said, pointing her spoon.

“That’s training,” she said. Then she paused. “And the EMH may be a brilliant doctor—or at least a program—but he probably wouldn’t rank high on anyone’s dating list. Although, a man you can switch off with a voice command is pretty tempting.”

The four laughed.

*

“You’re smiling a lot today,” Fitzgerald said, tapping the last of his bread around his soup bowl.

“Am I?” Cavit pulled his attention away from the amusement of the four women tables half-way across the Mess Hall, and shrugged. “It’s just nice to hear the laughter.”

“It is,” Fitzgerald said. He tilted his head. “And the mood seems good lately. Which I think has something to do with the microprobe maybe spotting the Equinox. Any news on that front?”

“Not really.” Cavit blew out a breath. “We still don’t know for sure if it was even was the Equinox, or a different Federation ship, like the Vulcan vessel we assume is out here, too. I know Taitt has her teams working on it, but so far they haven’t been able to match the microprobe’s stellar readings with anything on long-range scans.” He chased a final spoonful of soup around his bowl, then swallowed, enjoying it. “Plus side, if it is the Vulcan ship and we find them? Eru is going to dazzle their tastebuds.”

“T’Prena mentioned that the Vulcan dishes Eru has been practicing with this week have all been satisfactory,” Fitzgerald said, raising one eyebrow. “So you know they’re good.”

The two men smiled at each other.

“Bridge to Captain Cavit.” It was Commander Ro.

“Go ahead,” Cavit said.

“Captain, we’ve got a distress call on a lower subspace band. Long-range sensors read it as similar to the Sikarian vessel we encountered just outside of Numiri space.”

Cavit shared a look with Fitzgerald. “The ship with that subspace mine?”

“That’s the one, Captain,” Lieutenant Rollins said, joining the conversation over the channel. “I’m not reading any active weapons, but at long-range, it’s hard to tell.”

Cavit took a second to consider, then nodded. “Okay. Lay in an intercept course. But raise shields and move to yellow alert. If they’re packing one of those mines, I don’t want to be caught unaware.” He put his spoon down. “I’m on my way.”

“Aye, sir,” Ro said.

“I’ll go get sickbay ready for any casualties,” Fitzgerald said, rising and grabbing his bowl.

Cavit made eye contact with Stadi and Lan, nodding his head. The two women, having obviously heard the conversation, rose as well.

*

Stadi stepped onto the bridge with the others, and took the Conn from Baytart, who’d been covering her lunch break. On the screen, the image of an alien smiled at the bridge—and Commander Ro in particular.

“Captain Cavit,” Ro said, gesturing to Cavit. “This is Gathorel Labin of Sikaris. Gathoral Labin, Captain Aaron Cavit. Maybe you can tell him what you told me.”

Was it just Stadi, or did Ro sound a bit discomforted? She didn’t often pick up stray feelings from the Bajoran first officer—Ro had a very “quiet” mind compared to many officers Stadi had worked with.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Cavit said, and Stadi could feel the hesitant curiosity in Cavit’s mind. “You sent out a distress signal?”

“We did,” the man’s tone was almost disinterested, and Stadi turned her attention to him once she’d confirmed Voyager’s position relative to the small ship—a ship that seemed to be, as far as she could see on her readings, completely operable.

“How can we help you, then?” Cavit said, spreading his hands out.

“As I was telling your wonderful Commander Ro,” Gathoral Labin said, and Stadi felt the man’s attention return to Commander Ro with far more interest than he was showing to Captain Cavit. “It’s not us who need assistance.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, Captain.” Gathoral Labin smiled, and Stadi had to admit, the man radiated a very genuine desire to make their acquaintance. “We’re here to help you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Cavit said, clearly confused.

“I am here to ask you to come visit our system. Let us welcome you. Show you the hospitality of our people.” Gathoral Labin’s smile widened as he spoke.

“Oh,” Cavit said. “Thank you. We certainly won’t turn down an opportunity to meet new friends.”

“Perhaps I could come aboard your ship? I have gifts for you and a proposal I hope you will find irresistible.” Gathoral smiled, and it seemed to Stadi the man’s smiles—and his thoughts—were entirely for Commander Ro.

“Mr. Rollins,” Cavit said, turning his head to face Tactical. “Let’s roll out the welcome mat, shall we?” He turned back to the viewscreen. “We have technology that allows us to beam you on board, if you’re willing?”

“That would be wonderful, Captain,” Gathoral said. “If you could give me a few moments to prepare my gifts?”

“Let us know when you’re ready.”

Gathoral nodded, and smiled once more at Commander Ro before closing the channel.

“Thoughts?” Cavit said.

“No sign of any of those mines on board his ship,” Rollins said. “And according to the Talaxian Database, Sikaris is supposed to be a very nice place to visit, and known for its hospitality.”

“It’s a small ship, five life-signs,” Lan said. “Not particularly well-armed.”

“I think his intentions are genuine,” Stadi said, then, clearing her throat. “And perhaps a little… pointedly aimed.” She met Ro’s gaze.

“I’d noticed,” Cavit said dryly. “The man barely looked at me. Commander, when he’s ready to beam over, perhaps you’d better to take the lead?”

Commander Ro looked like she’d rather chew rocks, but she nodded. “Aye, sir.”

Chapter Text

Maintaining a polite smile while walking Gathoral Labin from Transporter Room One to the Mess Hall wasn’t beyond Ro Laren. She’d faced all manner of challenges in her life, including life-threatening situations on multiple occasions. But diplomacy had never come naturally, and it put her on edge.

“Are you sure I can’t help you with any of those, Mr. Labin?” Labin had beamed in with multiple containers, which he carried in both hands.

Rollins offered his hands, too. He hadn’t said a word since Gathoral Labin had beamed aboard, clearly happy to let Ro take the lead.

“I wouldn’t dream of asking either of you to,” he said. Then he paused long enough to add, clearly intended for Ro, “And please. It’s Gath.”

She nodded. Was she supposed to offer to let him call her Laren?

She hoped not.

Also, was she just imagining it, or was Rollins fighting off a laugh?

“This way,” she said, instead. Then, after a beat, added, “Gath.”

Rollins cleared his throat, and Ro met his gaze long enough to send what she hoped was a clear message that this was absolutely not funny.

Rollins’s features restored themselves to some semblance of decorum, but she could still see the mirth in his eyes.

Gath smiled. He was handsome enough, she supposed, in a soft sort of way. He had the look of a man accustomed to a gentle life, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, just something she didn’t often equate with those she found attractive.

They arrived at the Mess Hall and they led him through the doors. She nodded to Eru, who was just cleaning up the last of the leftovers from the second lunch seating, and who smiled at Labin—Gath, she corrected herself—in that genuine way that seemed to come so easily to the pretty blond Ocampa.

Gath tilted his head. “Another new species,” he said, then turned to Ro. “Your ship has many alien races.” The words seemed coloured with genuine delight, at least.

“I’m Ocampa,” Eru said. “There are six of us aboard. We met Voyager’s crew when they first arrived in this quadrant, and they helped save my people. My name is Eru.”

Ro faced Eru, nodding a grateful smile her way. “Saved” might have been a particularly positive take on the events of Voyager’s arrival, but neither was it untrue. She turned back to Gath. “We have a mix of Alpha Quadrant races on board,” she said. “But also the Ocampa, and a single Vhnori, who we met here in the Delta Quadrant, Hatil Garan.”

“Vhnori,” Gath tried the word on his tongue, almost like he was tasting a new food. “We’ve never encountered them, and we are a very well traveled species.”

“Technically, Hatil is from a future version of a local planet. He’s the only Vhnori who exists in our galaxy, in a sense,” Rollins said, speaking up and finally taking some of Gath’s attention. Ro wondered if he was trying to make up for his earlier amusement.

Gath’s eyes widened. “That sounds like an incredible story.”

“You should ask him to tell it to you,” Ro said, deflecting.

“Well,” Gath said. “First I would like nothing better than to prepare a few of our newest delicacies for you. To entice you to visit Sikaris.” He turned to Eru. “If you wouldn’t mind me using your space?” He lifted the trays he carried slightly.

“Not at all,” Eru said. “Come around and through.”

Once he was in the kitchen proper, Ro watched the man put the final touches on meals obviously more-or-less prepared, and then he portioned out some admittedly delightful smelling options onto one of the Mess Hall trays. “Here, Commander,” he said, then, as an afterthought, handed another to Rollins. “Lieutenant.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding amused again.

Ro considered if he needed a few night shift bridge duty sessions or not, then she took a bite of something rolled and crispy, and the flavourful heat that followed was one of the most wonderful things she’d ever tasted. She didn’t have to put on airs.

“This is one of the nicest things I’ve ever had,” she said.

Eru, who’d also had a bite of a different dish, nodded. “This is lovely. I would love to trade recipes, if you’d be willing? And I’m sure Daggin and Cir would love to trade you for any edible plants you may grow.”

Rollins, mouth full, just nodded in agreement, chewing.

Gath grinned in obvious delight. “Does that mean you’ll tell your Captain to visit Sikaris?”

Ro didn’t fight off the smile that came with Gath’s assumption she could tell the Captain what to do. “I see no reason not to suggest it.” She paused long enough for a second bite of the crispy roll. “May I ask how you learned about us?”

Gath’s smile only grew. “People lost and alone, struggling to find their way home? Your story is certainly being told, and as I said, we are a well-traveled people.”

“And we encountered your people once already,” Ro said. She waited, maintaining eye contact, until Gath finally chuckled.

“Yes,” Gath said. “Admittedly not the sort we’d every want to make a first impression of our people, and indeed they do not even consider themselves a part of our people.” He waved a hand. “But if I may? What I’m offering is a respite. A chance for your crew to get away from the confines of your ship to enjoy the beauty of our landscape, and to meet and talk with interesting, learned people.”

Shore leave, Ro thought. It wasn’t something they’d had the chance to offer the crew since they’d arrived in the Delta Quadrant, and honestly, it wasn’t the worst idea. She met Rollins’s gaze, and he gave her a little nod as well, obviously on the same page.

She tapped her commbadge. “Ro to Bridge.”

“Go ahead,” Captain Cavit said.

“Captain, if the food is anything like what we can expect from a visit to Sikaris, I’m going to say we should definitely pay a visit to Sikaris.”

“I’ll have Stadi lay in a course, then.” Cavit’s voice was chipper. Then, a moment later, he added, “Did you save any of that food?”

“I’d hurry down here, Captain. Rollins has already gone through half of it.”

She’d delight in the mildly panicked look that earned her from Rollins for at least few days, she imagined.

*

Fitzgerald looked up as Cavit entered Sick Bay, passing by two crew who were leaving. Kes, Sullivan, and T’Prena were all present, too, each of them chatting with a crew member.

“Busy place,” Cavit said, stepping into Fitzgerald’s small office.

Fitzgerald raised a PADD. “First shore leave opportunity we’ve had, so we’re jumping here. Thank you for this, by the way. It’ll do the crew a lot of good.”

“We never know when we’ll have opportunities like this, so we should take them as we can.” He eyed the PADD. “Did Labin’s people send you and Ro everything you needed?”

“And more,” Fitzgerald put it down. “That was why I wanted to see you, actually.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve cleared the crew for fraternization,” Fizgerald said. “And I’ve spoken with the department heads. But you’re out of date, Aaron.”

Cavit blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“You need a new shot. If you’re planning to go down to Sikaris, I mean.”

“I am,” Cavit said, and suddenly the man’s bright blue eyes were looking anywhere else but at him. “But I wasn’t intending to… fraternize.”

Fitzgerald swallowed a little smile. “Well,” he said, rising and picking up a hypospray. “Things happen, and I’d rather you—and the rest of the crew—be prepared. Especially since these Sikarians seem to be a very open species in at least a few regards. When I say Labin’s crew gave me more information than I needed?” Fitzgerald’s eyebrows rose. “I meant it. I had enough information to know there’s a not-insignificant chance of fraternization having consequences.”

“Okay,” Cavit said, and a red flush crept up the man’s neck. “If you think it’s a good idea.”

“I do.” Fitzgerald gave him the hypospray, pressing it against his neck. “Oh, and helpful tip: if a Sikarian offers to have clothing made for you? They’re offering a lot more than that.”

“Noted,” Cavit said. He shook his head. “I’ll make sure I do my homework before I head down. I’m going to have Ro lead an away team down for an initial run-through, just to make sure. I don’t want to forget the first time we met some of these people they were selling weapons.”

“I thought Labin said those weapons dealers weren’t part of Sikaris any more?” Fitzgerald said.

“He did,” Cavit said. “And I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, but I’d still rather do things by the book here.”

Fitzgerald nodded. “That’s fair. If you’re sending Ro down, I can set up the schedule for shore leave, if you’d like. Five rotations?” It was the kind of duty he and the First Officer would normally share—one he and Cavit had done a few times in the Alpha Quadrant during Voyager’s shakedown—but he didn’t mind doing it on his own. The department heads were usually very happy to accommodate shore leave scheduling. And five rotations wouldn’t leave the ship understaffed in any key positions at any given time. “How long are we planning to stay?”

“I think ten days would work,” Cavit said. “Give everyone an overnight planetside if they want it?”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Thanks, Jeff.”

“Any preference on when you’d like to go?” Fitzgerald asked, just as Cavit turned to go. He smiled when Cavit looked surprised at the question. “Captaincy has its privileges.”

“Put me last.” Cavit shook his head. “I don’t mind waiting until the end.”

“Got it.”

Cavit left.

It was funny, Fitzgerald thought, and likely only a coincidence, but he always waited for the final shore leave rotation himself, too.

*

Ro, Honigsberg, Rollins, Lan, and Daggin beamed down to find Gath waiting for them right where he said he’d be. The plaza around them was bright and airy, mostly made of a white stone but with interesting angles and curves that kept it from being too plain. Sikaris’s sun beaming down over them and the sounds of birdsong carrying on the breeze. Around them, a few stalls of various wares seemed to be doing some trade, with Sikarian people milling around.

Their arrival created a small stir of attention, Ro noticed, as most eyes turned to them.

“Welcome,” Gath said, raising his arms. She noticed he’d redone the decoration in his hair—a kind of thread or wire that circled around his head in what appeared to her to be a random pattern—and changed into yet another brightly coloured outfit. The man clearly enjoyed a wardrobe adjustment. “Welcome to Sikaris.”

“Gathoral Labin,” Ro said, meaning to introduce her people, but he raised his hand.

“Gath,” he said.

“Gath,” she corrected. “Please meet my away team. “This is Lieutenant Honigsberg, our chief engineer, Ensign Lan, our operations officer, and Daggin, who is in charge of the gardens where we grow food. And you already met Lieutenant Rollins.”

“Hello,” Gath said, sparing a longer look at Lan than the others, but still more-or-less passing them by to return his attention to Ro. “I brought my aide, Jaret Otel. He’s in charge of any trades done under my purview as a magistrate.”

The slimmer man beside Gath nodded to the group, then turned to face Daggin directly. “I believe you wished to trade for edible plants?”

“Very much so,” Daggin said, his usual infectious grin there in an instant.

“Allow me to lead the way,” Jaret said, and the two wandered off together, Daggin animatedly asking questions, and Jaret answering in kind.

“When should we expect more of your crew?” Gath said.

Ro eyed him. “You don’t believe in wasting time, do you?”

Gath put a hand to his chest. “I’m afraid not. We believe in having joy. Delaying it seems…” He waved a hand. “Most often unnecessary.”

“Well, we’ll take a brief tour,” Ro said. “And then we can report back to the Captain and start official shore leaves.”

“In that case,” Gath turned to Rollins, Lan, and Honigsberg. “Make yourselves at home. And if you see anything that catches your interest in the stalls, please say so. It would be my pleasure to be your patron during your stay.”

It wasn’t a dismissal exactly, but Ro couldn’t help but notice Gath had more-or-less told the rest of the away team to take a hike. Lan moved over to something that looked like a harp of some kind and struck up a conversation with the woman playing it, while Honigsberg went one way into the plaza, and Rollins another, clearly looking to explore the greater area around the market.

“What do you think?” Gath said, taking Ro’s arm, and turning her to face a stall full of admittedly beautiful fabrics.

“They’re lovely.” She reached out and touched a red cloth, and the sensation was smoother than silk. She turned back to him, curious despite herself. “What is this material?”

“Dedestrian petal silk. It's spun from the petals of a flower that blooms only in moonlight.” He eyed her uniform, then back to the cloth. “You seem to appreciate red, but I believe a dress would flatter you more, if you’d let me have one made?”

Ro let the fabric slide through her fingers. She’d read the cultural update Dr. Fitzgerald had received from Gath’s people, and knew full well what an offer of a dress was meant to infer. She faced him. “I’m afraid I’m not one for dresses.” She reached up and touched the headband she often wore with her uniform. “But a headband, perhaps?” If she remembered correctly, turning down the offer and asking for something smaller was a gentle way to say no that didn’t close off the door to more conversation.

Not that she wouldn’t slam it if Gath didn’t take her hint.

“It’s fascinating to me how your people seem hesitant to accept gifts or aid,” Gath said, though he turned to the stall owner and nodded. The cloth was tucked aside in a moment.

“Well, I think that’s more a me thing than something you can say about the crew of Voyager in general,” Ro said.

“That’s intriguing. Would it help if I said giving you a whole range of clothes would bring me, and the designer, and the cloth makers much joy?” Gath placed a hand at the small of Ro’s back, and they started walking again. “You are the first of your people we’ve ever met, after all.”

*

Honigsberg stopped at the final stall in his tour of the plaza where what appeared to be beautifully bound books were on display. He couldn’t read them, of course, but the sheer effort put into the work on their covers was a thing of beauty—ultra-thin threads dyed multiple hues to a single strand were woven together to create images of beautiful vistas.

Behind the stall, two men regarded him. Both had dark hair and lightly tanned skin, but where one was tall and slender and wore a tunic that seemed to blended greens and aquas, the other was wider, with his hair tied back in a bun, and a red tunic that was drawn tighter across his shoulders.

“The cover art is beautiful,” Honigsberg said. “Are they meant to represent actual places?”

“They are,” the slender man said. “I breed specific colours of petals for the threads, and my heartmate weaves them, once he’s finished writing the words, of course.” The slender man smiled at the other.

“Heartmate,” Honigsberg said. “I remember seeing that in the briefing. It’s a lovely way to put it.”

“You are from the lost ship, yes?” The broader man’s voice was a bit deeper than his heartmate’s.

“That’s right.” Honigsberg held out his hand. “I’m Lieutenant Alexander Honigsberg. But Alex is fine. I’m the chief engineer.”

After a moment, the slender man took his hand, and Honigsberg showed him how to shake. The slender man smiled. “I am Fenjesen Olrec, and this is Cashawn Amay.” Instead of letting go of Honigsberg’s hand, Fenjesen pulled it toward Cashawn, who wrapped his own hand around them both. “But for you, how about Fenj and Cash?”

The three-way handshake was warm, and Honigsberg couldn’t help enjoying it. He didn’t move to pull away, and let it play out. When the two did let go, the weaver-and-author, Cash, pointed to the books again. “Is there a book you’d like? Jaret Otel has left instructions for your crew to be granted market access.”

“I wouldn’t be able to read it without the universal translator,” Honigsberg said. “Though I’m willing to make the effort if you have a favourite. What are they about?”

“First joys,” Cash said, regarding him. “Perhaps this one.” He nudged a book toward Honigsberg, a slim volume that had what appeared to be a lush jungle on the cover. “It is about one of our favourite places, Alastria.”

“It looks beautiful,” Honigsberg said. “Thank you.” He picked up the book, opening it. Each page seemed to move from one a light green colour to a deeper emerald from top to bottom, and the writing on the page itself was just as elegant, a flowing sort of script that made him think of ancient Earth illustrated manuscripts.

The material felt so delicate, and yet clearly it could take wear.

“You said you grew this?” he turned back Fenjesen—Fenj. “The material the book is made of, I mean?”

The man’s soft brown eyes met his. “Yes. I am a biologist and botanist. There are families of flowers I can coax into soft but tough materials.”

“Well, I’m impressed.” Honigsberg rubbed his goatee. Everything he’d seen in the market had been impressive in its own way, and he’d ended up spending most of the Away Team’s allotted hour. It was well within the scope of his assignment: there’d been nothing remotely to worry about on Sikaris that he’d encountered, and given Rollins and Lan had headed in different directions they were covering more ground.

“Thank you, Alex.” Fenj tilted his head. “Are you staying long?”

“Actually,” Honigsberg said. “I’ll be heading back to the ship shortly, but I’ll be back later when the shore leaves begin. I lucked out and got on the first rotation.”

“If you’d like to see Alastria,” Fenj said, sharing a glance with Cash. “We could take you there.”

“Really?” Honigsberg was genuinely pleased. “That sounds great.”

“The thing is,” Cash said, and like Fenj, his soft brown eyes had a way of capturing Honigsberg’s attention. “It is much warmer there. You would likely be uncomfortable. If you’d like, we could have appropriate robes made for you?”

Robes. Honigsberg remembered everything Fitzgerald had put in the mission briefing, and what a gift of clothing meant. He rubbed his goatee, smiling. Robes, indeed.

“I… would like that,” Honigsberg said.

“Do you have a colour you prefer?” Fenj said, his eyes wandering around Honigsberg’s chest and shoulders and then back up to meet his gaze.

“Whatever you two think is best,” Hongisberg said, holding up the book. “It’s clear your both far more qualified than I am to choose colours.”

“We will choose, then,” Cash said, with enough weight behind the words to make a little thrill dance up the back of Honigsberg’s neck. “I’m told there will be a celebration of welcome for your people tonight. We will meet you there, Alex?”

“I’ll see you then,” Honigsberg said.

Chapter Text

Chief Medical Officer’s log, stardate 48643.1: After the official okay from the away team, the crew have started the first day of a planned ten day shore leave on planet Sikaris. From all accounts, the place is a small slice of paradise, and I look forward to my turn. In the meantime, I’ve begun my first attempt at synthesizing a liquid with the right viscosity, oxygenation, and nutritional content for a pair of young Trill symbionts.

“Nice goop.”

Fitzgerald looked up from the synthesized pool liquid—okay, fine, goop—and tipped an imaginary hat for Rebecca Sullivan. “Thank you. I’ve been working on it for weeks.”

“For Lan?” she said, nodding at the canister of liquid.

He nodded. “Hopefully. I understand why the Trill keep so mum about the pools—you wouldn’t want to make it easy for someone to take a symbiont, which believe it or not has been attempted multiple times before—but it’s not making my job any easier.”

“You’ll crack it,” she said.

“Thanks for the confidence,” he said. He meant it, too. Having Sullivan aboard as a medic was a weight off his shoulders in more than a few ways, and knowing both she and Kes were working so hard to increase their skillset helped take the pressure off trying to balance his job with his less-than-fully-capable left hand. He glanced at the assistance rig he wore, a series of bands and rings around his left hand, fingers, thumb and wrist to help amplify the damaged nerve impulses. He’d more-or-less adjusted to having a hand he had to concentrate to use, but the rig couldn’t completely restore his manual dexterity or provide the sensory feedback he needed in his role.

If they hadn’t had the EMH, T’Prena, Sullivan and Kes…

Well.

As if reading his mind—or maybe just noticing where his attention had gone—Sullivan spoke again. “Did you reach out to any of the medical experts on Sikaris?”

He had, and while he had plans to go see some people on the northernmost continent when his turn came for shore leave, their response to his inquiry had been pretty clear. “They’re a technologically advanced people, but medically speaking, they don’t think there’s much they can do for nerve damage as severe as mine.”

Sullivan’s dark eyes met his for a beat. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Maybe next time. I’m still going to go see them. One of their healers suggested they might be able to tweak the rig somewhat.”

Sullivan narrowed her eyes. “That’s what you’re doing with your shore leave?”

“Part of it, sure.”

Sullivan crossed her arms. “I know I’m just a medic, and a crewman doesn’t outrank any officer, but do I have the authority to suggest a medical appointment could happen before or after a lieutenant commander’s shore leave, rather than during?”

“Rebecca,” Fitzgerald started, but she raised her hand.

“Let me add that Sick Bay is currently empty, and we have no appointments tomorrow, and a fifth of the crew is off the ship and if something comes up T’Prena, Kes and I couldn’t handle, there’s still the EMH?”

Fitzgerald eyed the pool liquid, but before he could speak, she shook her head again.

“And before you deflect with the goop, I happen to know T’Prena has been working with you. I’m sure she can handle the tests.”

He met her gaze. She smiled, clearly knowing she had covered all her bases.

“You know,” he said. “You have this whole ‘treating stubbourn officers’ thing down. It’s a whole skillset they don’t teach at the academy, but it’s probably one of the most important things a medical officer does.”

“After trying to make Maquis to rest and recover?” Sullivan’s lips curled in a wry smile. “Starfleet is easy.” She raised one eyebrow. “Do you want me to tell Captain Cavit, or can you handle it yourself?”

“I’ll make an appointment with the Sikarians then let him know I’ll be off ship for a few hours,” Fitzgerald said.

“Good. I’ll let T’Prena know she’s on goop duty.” Sullivan didn’t wait, turning and leaving before he could say another word. Fitzgerald checked the clock, amused. I was late on Sikaris now, but he imagined the Sikarian medial centre had people manning communications around the clock. He’d never known a hospital that didn’t.

*

“And since us trying to get home would have meant letting the hostile Kazon have the Caretaker’s array—which would have been disastrous for the Ocampa—Captain Cavit did the right thing and let the self-destruct happen. Voyager and the Li Nalas retreated, and so…” Honigsberg raised one hand, waving it. “Here we all are.”

The Sikarian welcome festival had been musical and bright and energetic, and Hongisberg had found Fenj and Cash waiting for him right where they’d said they’d be, but as the sun had set, the Starfleet crew who’d gotten the first rotation for shore leave had spread out away from the main decorated plaza in smaller groups. He’d shared a delicious meal with Fenj and Cash, who’d asked him to tell the story of how Voyager had arrived in the Delta Quadrant, and they’d been rapt as he’d spoken.

And Honigsberg would be the first to admit, he’d certainly enjoyed having their attention. The two men were handsome, albeit in different ways, and were free with their touches, often tracing his forearm or touching his shoulder or the small of his back while they’d navigated the festival.

“That story is moving,” Fenj said. “May we have your permission share it?”

Honigsberg nodded, frowning a little at how seriously the two men were looking at him. “Of course you can.” He tilted his head. “Am I missing something?”

“Stories are an essential part of a person,” Fenj said. “Sikarians don’t share someone’s story without permission.”

“Oh,” Honigsberg said. “Well, you’re more than welcome. Both of you.” He smiled at Cash. “As an author, I imagine you’d do a better job of it than me, anyway.”

That made Cash laugh, which was a rich and warm sound. It also made him lean in. “May I ask a question about your story?”

“Of course.”

“Voyager is here, but you spoke of two ships. Does that mean there is another ship somewhere else, full of the former criminals you were chasing?” Cash said, his deeper voice intrigued.

“Oh, no,” Honigsberg shook his head. “They’re all aboard Voyager now. A short while after we got here, we bumped into a Quantum Singularity, and it cost us the Li Nalas.” He took a sip of the cool, fruity drink they’d poured for him. “Which is another story.”

“So you are a forgiving people as well.” Cash smiled, and reached forward to take the cup from Honigsberg’s hand. “Perhaps we can impose upon you to share more stories.” He placed the cup on the small table where they’d been sitting for the better part of an hour. “But we promised you a visit to Alastria, and I would like to see if the robe we chose for you suits you as much as we hoped it would.”

Fenj leaned down and picked up a box, which he placed on the table. Honigsberg lifted the lid—the whole box appeared to be made out of the same material that the men bound Cash’s books in—and let out a breath when he saw the beautiful material inside. He pulled the robe from the box, watching the fabric shift from a soft pale fawn colour to something closer to a warm russet, depending on how the light caught it. It also held woven patterns, but they weren’t of a different colour, providing texture more than visual effect. It felt nearly weightless, and was the smoothest thing he’d ever held.

“This is gorgeous,” he said, meaning it.

“I tried to match your eyes,” Fenj said. “Which I think it’s an impossible task, but still provided inspiration.”

Okay, Fenj was smooth, that was for sure.

“We should all change before we go,” Cash said, rising.

Honigsberg followed them to a dwelling, where they led him inside. The space was clearly designed for comfort, with couches to relax on and swaths of cloth covering the windows, and offered him a smaller room. Inside, he glanced around and noted what he assumed was the bed was clearly designed wider than the two men would need.

He changed, wondering briefly if he should keep his undershirt and shorts and then deciding the garment was clearly designed to be worn against the skin. It had a double-belt that it took him a moment or two to figure out, but once it was tied in place, he turned to a reflective surface on one wall and had to admit: the way the cloth shifted between the two tones and hugged his shoulders and waist?

He looked good.

Back in the main room, he found Fenj and Cash in similar robes—Cash once again in something red though this time it deepened almost to black, and Fenj in earth tones that hinted at greens and ambers. They handed him a pair of sandals, and he realized they were both wearing them as well.

Honigsberg slipped on the sandals, then held up his commbadge. “I didn’t want to put this on the robe in case it would damage it, but it I don’t carry it, we won’t be able to understand each other.”

“The petal-silk won’t rip or distort,” Fenj said, taking the badge from Honigsberg’s hand and pressing it against his chest.

“Good,” Honigsberg said, clearing his throat as Fenj’s hand remained there. “That’s good.”

The two led him to a raised platform, where they stood close to either side of him. Cash said, “Alastria,” and a transport effect washed over them. A moment later, they were on a similar platform by the edge of a deep jungle. It was significantly warmer, and the air was heavy with the scent of tropical flowers.

It was also dark, though a single light near the platform provided enough illumination to see by.

“This is beautiful,” Hongisberg said, eyeing the stars above him. The spread of the Milky Way was clearly visible. It was sometimes strange to see a sky full of stars and not recognize any constellations, but for the moment, he let himself revel in the beauty.

“Come,” Cash said, taking his hand and tugging lightly.

They led him along a path of faintly luminescent stones, turning at a river and leading him up to a series of geometric domes, small cabins apparently built from slatted wood. They passed a few before opening the door on one and inviting him inside.

The initial room took up half the dome. Soft flickering lights from beneath the surface of a hot pool taking up a third of the room’s space lit the place gently, and the rest was filled with cloths, pillows, and felt soft beneath his feet. A door on the back wall led further into the cabin.

Cash and Fenj slid off their sandals, so Honigsberg followed suit. They also unlooped the complicated ties of their robes, loosening them to the point where the fabric opened at their throats, revealing the smooth skin beneath, and revealing that both men were definitely fit.

It would be rude not to follow suit, Honigsberg assumed, doing the same and not failing to catch the men regarding more of what he’d just put on display. He hoped they didn’t mind chest hair.

The two men approached him, and Fenj’s expression warmed. “You know we value stories,” he said.

“Yes,” Honigsberg said, nodding. They’d made that clear, definitely.

“We also value the primacy of a joy,” Cash said, reaching out and wrapping one arm around Fenj’s waist. “And in the telling of stories of first joys.”

“Okay,” Honigsberg said, feeling a smile building and not trying to hide it. He rubbed his goatee.

“The book you chose,” Cash said. “Is one of stories of first joys.” The man had a way of smiling that made Honigsberg feel borderline edible, and that was definitely working for him.

Honigsberg cleared his throat. “So, in other words, you’d like to kiss and tell?”

Fenj stepped closer, sliding one hand across the back of Honigsberg’s neck, and tugging the soft cloth of the robe a little more open. “If you’ll allow us the permission, yes but…” He leaned in, his lips close to Honigsberg’s ear. “Perhaps more than a kiss, Alex?”

When Honigsberg opened his mouth to answer, Fenj took a starting kiss, and Honigsberg closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the man. He sensed more than heard Cash step behind them, and a moment later, Cash’s hands slid over Honigsberg’s shoulders, and across his chest, skin to skin now. The press of the man against Honigsberg’s back made it clear he wasn’t the only one losing his robe.

“Well,” Honigsberg said, leaning back. “Far be it from me to disrespect your culture.”

Cash’s chuckle tickled the back of Honigsberg’s neck.

“Let me open the shutters,” Fenj said, stepping to the side to do just that. “Let in the erosene winds.”

“Sorry?”

“The passion winds. They come just before the dawn.” Cash said, nuzzling the back of Honigsberg’s neck. “The erosene stimulates the skin. Creates euphoria.”

Sure enough, the moment Fenj opened shutters on the cabin’s sloped wall, a rising warm wind swept through the space and every nerve ending on Honigsberg’s exposed skin seemed to sing.

“Sikaris is an amazing place,” Honigsberg said.

“Alastria isn’t on Sikaris,” Fenj said, crossing the room and sliding out of his own robe as he stepped back to Honigsberg’s willing arms. “But we can get into that a little later.”

Honigsberg considered trying to ask more questions, but between Fenj and Cash’s mouths and hands, pausing for coherent thought and semantic discussion became a challenge he wasn’t remotely motivated to accomplish.

*

“I think as stories go, this may be my new favourite,” Cash’s voice was a contented rumble, and Honigsberg didn’t even try to fight off the chuckle the sentiment conjured.

“Thank you for sharing this with us,” Fenj said.

The three soaked together in the warm water of the pool taking up a third of the front room, a tangle of loose limbs, and Honigsberg got the feeling the other two felt equally as satisfied as he did. Fenj stroked a thumb leisurely up and down Honigsberg’s chest—he’d definitely delighted in chest hair—while Cash cradled them both against his broader frame. 

The wind’s effect faded as it grew lighter outside, and Honigsberg stretched in the water, which granted a slight buoyancy and a lovely scent vaguely reminiscent of patchouli that seemed to warm him down to his very bones.

“No argument from me,” he said. “This is decadent. And now I know my one lung is up to the challenge.”

“One lung?” Cash said.

“Another story,” Honigsberg said, not wanting to break the mood. “Maybe later. It’s not a joy kind of story.”

“Alastria is known for being a place to find joy even when you don’t expect it,” Fenj said.

Honigsberg remembered their somewhat aborted discussion from earlier, shifting to face the shorter of the two men. “You said this isn’t Sikaris? What did you mean?”

Fenj nodded at Cash, who stretched out one arm enough to tap a control on the wall. Above them, the slats of the roof tilted, revealing a smooth plane of clear material, through which Honigsberg could see the sky, brightening now as twin suns crept up from the horizon.

Wait.

Sikaris wasn’t in a binary system.

“We’re in another star system?” Honigsberg sat up, turning to face the other two men, who continued to lie there languidly in the water. “That transport device we used can reach another star system?”

“Yes.” Cash didn’t seem particularly impressed by his own statement.

“How far away from Sikaris are we?” Honigsberg said. He’d had no idea the Sikarian transportation technology was that impressive.

“Fenj?” Cash said. Honigsberg remembered Cash was the tale weaver, whereas Fenj was more of a scientist. Biology, but still.

“It’s about as far as we can fold,” Fenj said. “Alastria is about two and a half billion chiran,”

The UT didn’t understand the word. Honigsberg frowned. “A chiran is..?”

“The average distance between Sikaris and her star,” Fenj said, drawing a line across Honigsberg’s chest with one finger.

Honigsberg did the mental math, pressing a hand over Fenj’s on his chest when he got a little dizzy. He wanted to blame it on his single lung, but he was pretty sure it was just the natural reaction to realizing he was nearly forty thousand light years from where he’d been.

“That’s...” Honigsberg said. “That’s half way back to our home.” He sat up, turning to face the other two men in the water. “You said ‘fold.’ Do you mean a spatial fold?”

“I think so,” Fenj was frowning. “We call it a spacial trajector, but I believe that’s right.”

“That’s incredible,” Honigsberg grinned, looking back and forth between the two men. They were both smiling at him hesitantly, unsure. “You said this was the limit of how far you could go?”

“Alex,” Cash put his hands on Honigsberg’s shoulders. “What is it? Why are you so excited? Could you tell us?”

“It’s just,” Honigsberg held up his hands, palms up, one closed, one open. “No one in the Federation has ever cracked spatial folding technology, but in theory the size of what starts here?” He closed the open hand. “Doesn’t matter.” He opened the other hand.

They were both still regarding him, but now they seemed cautious. He shook his head. “What I mean is, could your spacial trajector move something as big as Voyager?”

He saw the moment their confusion ended, and they understood what he was asking. The pity that appeared instead pulled the breath from him.

“What?” he said. “What am I missing?”

“The magistrates don’t allow other species to use Sikarian technology,” Cash said, though he said it gently.

“They believe anything another species did with it… it would be as though it was their fault,” Fenj added.

“Oh.” Honigsberg said. He swallowed. “Do… Do you think we could ask anyway?”

The two men shared a brief glance that didn’t exactly fill him with hope, but they nodded.

“We can. It isn’t morning on Sikaris, though. The Magistrates won’t be available,” Cash said. He rose, the scented water pouring down his naked body. “Come. We’ll dry off and sleep. We will try tomorrow.”

Honigsberg nodded, and even allowed Fenj to help him stand. He couldn’t imagine sleeping, but by the time the three had dried off with the most absorbant and soft towels he’d ever used, the athleticism of the long night did catch up to him, and he drifted off snuggled between the two men on a wide bed in the back room of the cabin, his dreams full of the voices of the Alpha Quadrant.

Chapter Text

Ro Laren didn’t generally put a lot of faith in shore leave—at least not for herself—but even she had to admit that once Gath had finally accepted what it was she truly wanted, he’d delivered.

She’d spent most of the day completely alone, and it had been glorious.

One of a series of small A-framed homes on the southernmost continent of Sikaris had been loaned to her near the end of her first official day of shore leave. Her view of a river in some rolling fields reminded her so much of her favourite provinces of Bajor that she’d offered up a quick and silent prayer.

True, the neighbours had all noticed her arrival, and certainly appearing on the transport platform alongside Gath and Jaret had created a small stir, but while a few had dropped by with some food or to introduce themselves, for the most part they’d left Ro to her own devices, and she had taken a long walk down alongside the river, then come back to eat. She’d brought a book with her, and she read for a while as the sun dipped low, then lit a small fire a metal brazier on the porch of the little house. She’d star-gazed, then, eventually, gone inside and slept in one of the most comfortable beds she’d ever had the pleasure of using.

Her second day had more-or-less been more of the same, though she knew she’d have company at lunch. Gath might have been willing to give her the peace she most wanted, but the man couldn’t seem to fathom her truly enjoying it.

Sure enough, shortly before the mid-day, Ro heard a soft knock at the door.

Gath wore a jewel-toned design today, with a triangular pattern on his shoulders and chest, and the wire-like hair accessory he wore was even more ornate than usual. He lifted a tray. “I have brought lunch.”

With a full day of rest behind her, Ro managed to find some gratefulness, and opened the door. “Please, come in.”

“I hope you enjoyed your time here,” he said, looking around the small space, a small frown marring his features. “We could have given you a space much more suiting to your station.”

“This was exactly what I wanted,” Ro said. “And I haven’t slept that well in months. Years, maybe.”

Gath’s smile returned, and he placed the tray on the little table, removing the lid. Warm, spicy scents wafted, and Ro couldn’t help but be intrigued. “That smells delicious.”

“If I admitted we asked the other Voyager crew on Sikaris what Bajorans liked to eat, would that upset you?” The man’s smile really was impressive, as was his determination to find things she’d enjoy. She could easily imagine women falling for that kind of charm.

Other women, of course.

“That depends on how well the crew turned out to know what Bajorans liked,” Ro said, countering with a little smile of her own.

Gath laughed, putting a hand on his chest. “Ah, but it was soon apparent the person to ask was your ship’s chef, Eru.” He pointed at the uncovered food. “This is a spicy brine wrap, and though the sauces are entirely of Sikarian design, I believe you will find it pleasing.”

Ro’s love of hasperat had definitely been leaked to this man. She took a step forward, gently picking up one of the wraps and dipping it into a white sauce. She took a bite, and the flavour—and burn—were borderline perfect. It wasn’t hasperat, and indeed Ro didn’t think it was trying to be, but the taste was something she could easily imagine on Bajor.

She chewed and swallowed while Gath watched, clearly pleased with himself.

“This is fantastic,” she said. “Which I shouldn’t be surprised about. Everything about Sikaris seems to be designed to delight us.”

Gath’s smile grew. “You can’t know what that means to me.” He tiled his head. “But it does bring up something I need to speak with you about.” He gestured to the two chairs. “Perhaps while we eat?”

They sat, and he tried a wrap of his own. “This is excellent,” he said. “I’m not sure we’ve encountered this style of brine before, and your Eru has given us a true gift.”

“I don’t know what we’d do without her, honestly,” Ro said, meaning it. Eru—as well as Daggin, Cir, and Gara—had turned the ship’s garden into more than just a food source, but a genuine delight. The Mess Hall had become the heart of the ship.

“I hope that’s not the same for Mr. Garan,” Gath said, looking ever-so-gently pained.

Ro didn’t follow. “Hatil, you mean?”

Gath leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “Hatil Garan has asked if he could stay with us. My understanding is he is from a people who are more sedentary, and his arrival on your ship wasn’t purposeful.”

Ro took a second with that. “That’s true.”

“On Sikaris, he would be treasured as the only person of his kind to exist in our galaxy. And he’d be free to weave, which he says was his profession on his homeworld.” Gath tilted his head. “Honestly, I’m just grateful he didn’t allow his first impression of our species to colour his opinion. It pains me the first of our kind you met were those dissidents.”

“We met Hatil after the incident with the weapons dealers, actually,” Ro said. “So don’t worry. His first impression of you was, well, you.”

“Oh,” Gath said, and for a moment Ro thought he looked taken aback, but then another knock at the door drew her attention.

Gath eyed it. “You were expecting more company?”

“No,” she said. “But the neighbours have been dropping by here and there. Excuse me.” She rose, and went to the door.

To her surprise, Lieutenant Honigsberg was there, alongside two Sikarian males. The engineer looked flushed and excited.

“Lieutenant?” she said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Commander, but the Sikarian platform you took to get here. It’s not a transporter system like ours. It uses folding space.”

It took Ro a second to understand why he was excited, but as it sunk in, she turned to face Gath. He nodded, but he looked hesitant.

“I’m not an engineer,” Ro said, turning back to Honigsberg. “But I thought that was just a theory.”

“Not to the Sikarians,” Honigsberg said. “I spent the night on Alastria. Forty thousand light years away.”

Gath rose from his chair. “The spatial trajector allows us to visit many of the planets in this quadrant.”

Ro turned, more than feeling Honigsberg’s excitement now. “How far can you go?”

“Alastria is at the uttermost limits of it's range,” Gath said, speaking a bit slower, and looking past Honigsberg at the two men standing there, clearly not as excited as they were.

“Fenj said—sorry, Commander, this is Fenjesen and Cashawn,” Hongisberg was nearly tripping over his own voice. The two men nodded to Ro, and she smiled back at them, and then Honigsberg was speaking again. “They don’t think a vessel as large as Voyager has ever been folded—they tend to use smaller ships if they’re using their trajector, but in theory space folding wouldn’t change because of the size of the object being moved.”

Ro turned back to Gath. “Is that true?”

Gath didn’t meet her gaze, instead looking at the two men who’d come with Honigsberg. “You didn’t tell him?”

The one Honigsberg had called Fenj took a step in front of the other, almost as if he was protecting him. “We did, but we’re not Magistrates.”

Ro frowned. “Tell us what?”

Gath turned back to her, and he looked almost pained. “We cannot share our technology. Once it's out of our control, it might fall into the hands of those who would abuse it, and our canon of laws strictly forbids that.”

Honigsberg raised one hand. “Absolutely. I completely understand that. But if there’s any way you could allow us even a single journey, it would getting us so much closer to our—”

“Please.” Gath physically winced. “I don't enjoy denying you. I am a Magistrate, and our canon of laws determines our entire system of values. Breaking one precept would undermine everything we believe in.”

Ro took a breath, then another. She saw Honigsberg’s face, the way his jaw clenched, and how he stroked his goatee with one hand. Behind him, the slimmer of the two men, Fenj, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Gath was looking at them all with such pity and discomfort.

She was the commanding officer here. She needed to act like it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the words like ashes. “We didn’t mean to put you in a bad position.” She turned back to the three men still standing near the doorway of the small home. “Why don’t you join us for lunch. Gath brought some amazing food, Alex. It’s like a regional variety of hasperat.”

Honigsberg nodded, and managed a weak smile. Clearly the engineer wasn’t quite up to speaking yet.

“That’s very gracious of you,” Fenj said.

“We can eat on the deck,” Ro said.

She still had the rest of the day ahead of her before she was due back on Voyager, but the idea of being alone with her thoughts was the last thing she wanted now. Besides which, if Honigsberg had learned about the trajector’s range, it was only a matter of time before other crew on shore leave found out about it, too.

As soon as this lunch was over, she needed to talk to Captain Cavit.

*

Lieutenant Rollins was the last to arrive to the briefing room, looking a little short of breath.

“Sorry, Captain,” he said, sliding into his seat. “I had to change back into my uniform.”

“It’s fine,” Cavit said, raising one hand. “And I promise you can start your shore leave in a moment, but there’s a situation Lieutenant Honigsberg and Commander Ro discovered on Sikaris and and I wanted the senior staff aware of it before it spreads among the crew.”

“Aye, sir.” Rollins gave Cavit a short nod.

Stadi leaned forward. “Doctor Fitzgerald?” Jeff was the only senior officer not present.

“He’s meeting with some Sikarian medial officials, but I’ll fill him in when he’s done,” Cavit said. Then he turned to Honigsberg. “Why don’t you explain, Alex.”

Honigsberg, back in uniform after two days on Sikaris, and clearly trying to keep himself from sounding too excited, shared a brief glance with Ro before launching into his explanation, which he and Ro had already explained to Cavit. He covered the basics—the spacial trajector that had transported him nearly forty thousand light-years away from Sikaris, the theoretical use of the technology on an object the size of Voyager.

The excitement among Stadi and the others was clear. Rollins’s eyes grew wide. Taitt and Lan both leaned forward while Honigsberg spoke, both opening their mouths to ask him a question as he wrapped up, but Cavit raised his hand, having already been on this journey himself.

“Wait,” he said. “Before you go any further, there’s more to know. According to Gathorel Labin, the Sikarians don’t allow other species to access this technology on their own.”

“Does that mean they won’t use it for us, either?” Lan said.

Ro shook her head. “Gath didn’t seem hopeful on that front.”

“Surely there’s got to be some way,” Taitt said, looking around the group. “They could limit our access to one time, or…” She shook her head. “Something.”

“I hear you,” Cavit said. “I hear all of you. And Ro and I are going to do everything we can to see if Labin and the other Magistrates are willing to budge on this, but what I don’t want is for the crew to pin their hopes on this when there’s every chance it might come to nothing.”

Their faces, animated and excited just a moment ago, turned to him with something closer to resignation now. It cut, and he forced himself to keep his gaze even. “I know this is hard. But for now, let’s stick to enjoying the two sure things here: the shore leave, and having new friends—friends who, it seems, we might be able to rely on more than once during our journey through the Delta Quadrant—they clearly have multiple colonies as far away as forty thousand light years. That isn’t nothing.”

One by one, they nodded, but the dejection was clear.

“I guess this is what it feels like to be on the wrong side of the Prime Directive,” Stadi said. They all turned to her, and she shrugged. “I’m just thinking out loud, but it sounds very Sikarian precepts are much like our own noninterference policies, really.”

“You’re right.” Cavit saw the parallel. “We don’t interfere, either.”

“It has happened, though.” Lan pointed out. “There have been times the Federation has weighed the balance and found the Prime Directive too high a cost.”

“True,” Cavit couldn’t argue that. “But… if we found a pre-warp alien ship that had ended up in the Alpha Quadrant because of a wormhole, say, we might help them find a planet or treat their wounded or respond to a distress call, absolutely, but we wouldn’t give them state of the art warp engines to just to get them home faster, would we?”

Lan had to concede the point. “No.”

“And for the same reason the Sikarians are citing.” Stadi blew out a breath. “We’d have no way of knowing what they’d do with their improved technology once they got home.”

“Right,” Cavit said.

“I understand,” Rollins said. “I do. But…” He swallowed. “No. Sorry. You’re right.”

Cavit smiled at the man.

“On the plus side, there are many of these platforms,” Lan said, leaning forward. “At least we can study how they work from Voyager. I’m not saying we could crack spatial fold technology on our own, but it’s learning.”

Taitt tilted her head. “Scans of their trajector in action would definitely give us an idea of the basics.”

“Wait,” Cavit shook his head. “That could easily be seen as wilfully breaking Sikarian law. I don’t want anyone doing anything of the sort, understood?”

Another round of resignation. He took a breath. “I’m sorry. We’ll do everything we can. But we’re doing it by the book. Talk to your departments. Make sure they understand.” He waited for each of them to acknowledge him in turn, then nodded. “Dismissed.”

They mostly filed out, Rollins first, but the others following in turn except for Ro and Honigsberg, who waited for him.

“What do you think our chances are?” Cavit said. “You’ve spent a lot more time with Gathoral Labin than I have.”

“I have no idea,” Ro said. “Honestly, he’s mostly interested in showing his hospitality and treating us to comfort, whether we want it or not.” She frowned, shaking her head. “That’s not fair. I find him a little grating, but I shouldn’t say he’s not genuine.”

“He struck me as a bit… effusive,” Cavit said, cracking a small smile.

“More than a bit,” Ro said, returning the smile with an edge of amusement. “But now I’m wishing I’d been nicer all along. Honestly, though, I get the impression it’s the novelty of me that’s appealing to him.”

“Their core values include primacy and joy,” Honigsberg said. “I can’t speak to Labin, but the people I’ve spent time with have been nothing but kind and giving.” He leaned forward. “They explained the core tenets of their doctrines to me, but it was clear they wanted to help.”

“Primacy and joy is definitely accurate when it comes to Gath,” Ro said. “He wants to be the first to show us what he can do for us.” She shook her head. “He was fairly firm when he said no, but at the same time, it’s possible he’s open to negotiation.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t have something valuable offer him,” Cavit said.

“We just might,” Honigsberg said, brightening again. “Commander, did Gath ask you to tell him any stories?”

“Yes,” she said. “In between food and music and introducing me to more people than I could count.” She paused. “But only in private. And he asked me if he could share them, after.”

“They value stories,” Honigsberg said. “Especially new stories. We have the literature from dozens of Federation species on board.”

“Recipes, too,” Ro said, nodding slowly. “Apparently, Eru talked to Gath about hasperat and Gath thinks it’ll be the next biggest thing on the Sikarian menu.”

“You think we could buy ourselves a ride half way home with stories and recipes?” Cavit said.

“It’s worth a try,” Honigsberg said. “Isn’t it?”

Cavit couldn’t argue with that.

*

“Make a fist?” Suhoro said. The woman, a Sikarian healer, had been with Fitzgerald for about an hour now. Unlike most of the Sikarians he’d seen upon beaming down, her clothing—like most of the healers working in the facility—was a dove grey and unadorned. Clearly designed for ease of movement and carrying a few of their most-used instruments in a series of pockets along the waist. She had warm brown skin like most of the Sikarians on this continent, and the wire-like decoration she wore braided into her hair was of a brighter, more metallic tone.

He sat with his left hand across a scanning device. Fitzgerald concentrated, but without the assistance rig of rings and bands around his left hand, the best he could accomplish was a weak flutter of his fingertips, though his thumb did curl visibly.

“The damage is severe.” Suhoro’s gaze stayed on her monitor.

“Plasma burns, and then, unfortunately, three days without treatment,” Fitzgerald said.

She nodded, sparing a moment to meet his gaze and smile. “You can put your device back on now.”

Fitzgerald picked up the assistance rig and started sliding his fingers into the rings and bands, then this thumb, finally closing the bands around his wrist and palm. As he worked, the sensation of pins-and-needles spread across his fingers and palm, the way it always did when he first activated the rig.

“I believe you could reconfigure your device to be more efficient,” Suhoro said, gesturing for him to come to look at the results on her screen. He followed. The display could have said anything—Sikarian script was pretty, he noted—but the image made sense to him at least. It was his own hand, after all.

“Here, here, and here,” she said, pointing to points of lesser damage along his hand. “If you reworked your device to focus through these points, the response time and the amount of concentration required would be less.” She tilted her head. “You’d have to practice, of course, since it wouldn’t be as familiar or natural, but…” She tapped on the screen and his assistance rig appeared, with the changes she was talking about visible. He got what she was going for, and started to nod as he understood.

“I’d have to think differently about how I used my hand, but it would be easier, you’re right.”

Suhoro nodded. “Is this helpful?” She looked almost hesitant, which surprised him.

“It is, yes. Thank you. I’m not sure I would have considered trying to re-learn how to move my hand a different way.” She still looked slightly crestfallen, though. He decided to be blunt. “This gets me closer to what I used to be, and that means a lot.”

Instead of the effect he’d intended, if anything she looked all the sadder. “I wish I could do more.”

He smiled at her. “Well, when it’s my turn for shore leave, would you be willing to let me thank you with a meal? It’s not often I get to meet with other healers, and we tend to have a unique perspective on our cultures, don’t you think?”

That finally made her smile, and she nodded. “Indeed.”

“I’m not up for my turn until the last two days Voyager is here, but I’ll send a message. It was nice to meet you. And thank you, again.”

The healer nodded.

Fitzgerald tapped his commbadge. “Fitzgerald to Voyager. One to beam up.”

As he dematerialized, he saw that same look of sorrow on the healer’s face again.

*

“If we had a tricorder going while we used one of those platforms, I bet we’d learn a lot,” Durst said.

Rollins turned to face him. “Pete,” he said, trying to put a bit of authority into his voice.

Durst shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just… this is the first real opportunity we’ve had to make friends with people who could actually get us part of the way home and…” He sighed. “You’re giving me that look again, Scott.”

“We are on a beautiful planet, in a lovely market,” Rollins said, stepping forward. “The birds are singing and we get to be alone for two whole days.” He reached forward, putting his hands on Durst’s shoulders. “Apparently the cabin we get to stay in tonight is by a gorgeous river, and there’s a lovely trail.”

“Excuse me,” a Sikarian woman said, interrupting them. She held up a swath of a beautiful dark brown cloth, which glittered with threads of gold and green. “I was wondering if you’d allow me to have these robes made for you?” Her entire attention was on Rollins, and he knew he was blushing. This was the third vendor who’d offered one of them clothes.

He’d read the briefing. He knew what it meant.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, “but no, thank you. You’re very generous.” He pulled Durst a little closer, and the women’s eyes brightened with understanding.

“Ah,” she said. Then, with a little smile, she leaned forward. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Please,” Rollins nodded.

“If you’d like,” she said, “You could commission something for each other. I could have it ready within the hour.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Durst said, and then, with quick a sly smile for Rollins, he turned back to the woman and added, “could I ask you to make something sleeveless for him?”

“Pete,” Rollins said, knowing his face was burning but not having a single thing he could do about it. 

“I think a vest would suit you perfectly,” the woman said, her gaze mischievously exploring the arms in question. “Give me an hour,” she said. Then she faced Durst. “Something in a lighter colour for you, I think.”

She was gone a moment later. Rollins glanced around, and saw that the other vendors weren’t looking their way any more.

“Sleeveless? Really?” he said.

“Scott, if I had arms like yours I’d never wear sleeves on shore leave,” Durst said, with what sounded like complete sincerity. “Even if I was skiing on Andoria Prime.”

Rollins laughed, then tugged him closer for a quick kiss. “But you do have my arms. At least for the next two days.”

“When did you say we could go to this cabin?” Durst said, raising one eyebrow.

Chapter Text

Rollins stretched, reaching across the incredibly comfortable bed, but his hands found only the unbelievably soft sheets. He opened his eyes, moving to sit up, and a soft light pulsed through the room.

He turned, and found Durst, in a pair of shorts and the simple shirt he’d worn when they’d beamed down yesterday, holding a square device.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” Rollins said, grateful for the sheet pooling in his lap.

“Yes,” Durst said, grinned at him, then pivoted and took another. Rollins realized it was a holographic camera.

“Are you mapping out the cabin?” Rollins said.

“While you lazed away this afternoon,” Durst said, turning and taking another image scan. “I took a run along the river. You were still asleep when I got back, so I decided to map out the whole cabin, indoors and out.” He lowered the camera, turning back to face him. “I thought we could recreate this place on the holodeck, for later.” He winked. “Though I’ll edit out the strapping naked security officer. Except for personal use.”

“Your personal use is why I lazed away the afternoon,” Rollins said, still feeling the urge to nap just a little longer. He raised an eyebrow. “You seriously went for a run.” If he did, he hadn’t so much as sweat through his shirt, which wasn’t fair. The man only had one lung, even. If Rollins went for a run, he ended up soaked in sweat in no time.

Durst nodded. “I seriously went for a run.” He held out one hand. “Now come on, we’ve got four hours left, and I think we should put on our new clothes again, have a nice meal, and then come up with more personal use.”

Rollins laughed, but when Durst threw him the new brown vest the vendor had made for him, he slipped into it willingly.

The last two days had honestly been a highlight of Rollins’s life. It had the potential to frighten him if he let himself think about it too long, but Durst was right: they still had a few hours left. He’d do the deep thinking about just how much he’d enjoyed their time alone together once they were back on Voyager.

He was pretty sure his brother would call him a coward for delaying serious thought about just how close he’d grown to Durst, but Rollins could live with that.

*

Captain’s Personal Log, supplemental: We’ve just rotated the third group of crew down to Sikaris this morning, and the crew continue to enjoy themselves. I’ve invited Gathoral Labin to Voyager, where I hope I can convince him to consider an official request to help us get closer to home. I keep thinking about what Stadi said, and she’s right: being on this side of the fence of non-interference stings.

The cloud-covered blue-green orb of Sikaris dominated the view through the Ready Room windows, bathing the space in a cool light. Sitting on the couch, Gathoral Labin—Gath, Cavit reminded himself of the man’s preference for informality—reached out a hand when Cavit offered him a bowl. The Sikarian sniffed at the dish, then took a spoonful of the contents into his mouth.

The smile that followed was slow, but clearly delighted.

“This is exquisite,” Gath said, licking his lips. “Iced..?”

“Ice cream,” Cavit said, having a spoonful of his own. “Three flavours. The white is French vanilla, the dark brown is chocolate, and the more golden one is caramel.”

Gath had tried the French vanilla. He tried the chocolate next, and actually closed his eyes. Cavit could help but smile at the genuine display of enjoyment. He might be a bit effusive and over-the-top, but Gath was charming in his own way. “That was even better. I would love to take this back to my people.”

“I can give you the replicator pattern,” Cavit said. “It’s not a secret.”

Gath tried the caramel, which didn’t close the man’s eyes, but he still clearly enjoyed.

“Chocolate seems to win first place with a lot of people,” Cavit said.

“They are all excellent flavours, though,” Gath said. Then he tilted his head. “I have to say, I’m surprised you haven’t already taken time on Sikaris yourself, Aaron.”

Cavit hadn’t told the man to call him by his first name, but he wasn’t about to correct him now. “I plan to, but I’m on rotation for the final two days we’re scheduled to be here.”

“Delaying gratification seems to be a common quality among many of your people,” Gath said, licking more of the chocolate off his spoon. “It’s a confusing principle for me to grasp, but I suppose there’s something to be said for anticipation.”

Cavit laughed at the assessment. “I suppose we do tend to that, don’t we? But the upside to going last is I get to hear from everyone else about where they went, and choose fully informed of all the options.”

“That’s clever. Now, Aaron, why did you invite me up here?” Gath said. “I imagine it wasn’t just to give me ice cream.” He said the words slowly, like he was making sure to get it right an committing it to memory.

Cavit put his bowl down. “Before I say anything, I want you to know I understand and respect your culture’s restrictions. We have similar rules, in fact. But I have to ask, on behalf of my crew, would it matter if I promised you we would destroy the trajector technology once we'd used it to get home?”

Gath mirrored his pose, putting his own bowl down. “I don’t enjoy upsetting you, Aaron, but I can’t agree to that.” He held up his hand. “Truth be told, if Sikaris weren’t our original homeworld and important beyond measure, I sometimes expect we would have left it, given some of the more violent species in the area. Imagine this technology in the hands of the Kazon. Commander Ro herself told me you took great pains to keep advanced technology out of their hands.”

“That’s true.” Cavit said. “And honestly? I expected you to say no. And I don’t mean to push or any disrespect, but is there any way you could use the trajector to send us? A way for us not so much as touching your trajector technology, but using it yourselves to send us forty thousand light years closer to our home?”

Gath’s frown was almost immediate, but Cavit didn’t let him reply right away.

“Hear me out, please. In exchange, we could offer you something I think you’d value.”

That caught Gath’s attention, and he paused. “You could?”

“Voyager contains the literature—and recipes—from dozens of Federation worlds.”

“Literature?”

“Stories.” Cavit smiled. “Stories no one on Sikaris could ever have heard before, because they were collected over centuries on planets on the other side of the galaxy.”

Gath leaned back on the couch, clearly surprised. “I think you understand Sikarians more than I thought you did, Aaron.” Then the man smiled, leaned forward, and picked up his bowl again, dipping his spoon back into the chocolate ice cream. Clearly he wasn’t kidding about his thoughts on delayed gratification: the chocolate was almost gone from his bowl. “No one has make a request like that before, and while it goes against the canon of laws in the most literal sense, sending you isn’t giving you the technology…” He swallowed some ice cream, considering. He met Cavit’s gaze. “I’ll meet with the other Magistrates to discuss it. I wish you’d come at a time when we weren’t trying to deal with the fallout of those disruptive dissidents who were dealing with the Baneans, but if it helps, Aaron, I believe in you, and your people. I’ll bring your offer to the rest of the Magistrates, and champion it.”

“Thank you,” Cavit said. He couldn’t read the man well enough to know his chances, but it was something. Specifically, it wasn’t another dismissal.

Gath licked the last of the chocolate ice cream from his spoon, then eyed Cavit with a slow smile. “What was it called again? Cha..?”

“Chocolate,” Cavit said.

“Chocolate.” Gath seemed delighted with the word.

*

“Someone’s the belle of the ball,” Rebecca Sullivan said, nodding her chin. Across the plaza, Hatil Garan had a small crowd of Sikarians around him. He was telling a story, clearly enjoying himself, and had their full attention. The slender man almost had a healthy flush to him, even, which was a nice change from when he’d first come aboard Voyager nearly two weeks ago now.

Li-Paz frowned, turning. Beside him, Kes wrinkled her nose. “Belle of the ball?”

“Human saying, it means the person getting all the attention,” Sullivan said.

Kes turned to look as well. Both she and Li-Paz seemed to understand what she meant a moment later, turning back to face her.

“I’m told he’ll be staying with the Sikarians,” Kes said.

“You sound sad about that,” Sullivan said.

“He’s a very gentle man,” Kes said. “But I understand. His people aren’t space travellers.”

“Neither were yours,” Li-Paz said. “Were they?”

“Perhaps, thousands of years ago,” Kes said. “There are so many stories of the Ocampa from before. But I think I’d want to be on Voyager even if none of my ancestors had ever left Ocampa.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Sullivan said.

Sullivan and the other two had beamed down together, sharing a morning meal at a small restaurant Sveta had suggested. She liked Kes—they often spent time together on the night shift, working in Sick Bay with the EMH in Voyager’s wee hours—and she hadn’t had time to catch up with Li-Paz much. The Bajoran engineer might have bumped heads often with Tamal and Lan over the best method of various engineering processes during their time in the Maquis, but as the group’s medic, she’d always had a fun time with the gregarious man.

“Do you think they’ll help us get home?” Li-Paz said.

Sullivan shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope so. But honestly? I intend to just relax.”

“I’m sure Captain Cavit and Commander Ro will do their best,” Kes said. “And from what I understand, stories and recipes are of great value to the Sikarians. If anyone can make it work, I think they can.”

“Well. Here’s to that.” Li-Paz grinned, lifting a glass of a fruity drink Sveta had also told them they should try. “If I had to bet on anyone, I’d bet on Ro.”

The three of them clinked their glasses.

“Excuse me,” a voice said.

Sullivan turned. According to Sveta, they would do well to prepare themselves for a number of offers of clothing, if her experiences had been anything to go by. Sveta had come back to Voyager with two new dresses and some very detailed stories about a man she met, a Sikarian clothing designer, stories Sullivan was doing her best not to remember in the moment.

“Hello,” Li-Paz said, with a wide an welcoming smile. The woman standing there before them was pretty, with dark eyes and dark hair arranged with an elaborate decorative thread. Li-Paz gestured to the empty seat at their table. “Join us.”

Someone was eager to start his shore leave. Sullivan shared a none-too-subtle smile with Kes, who aimed it right back at her, smiling around a sip of her juice. Well, she had just thought Li-Paz was gregarious and outgoing, hadn’t she?

The woman sat. “Forgive me for intruding,” she said. “But may I ask a question?”

“Of course,” Li-Paz said. Sullivan tried hard not to laugh, which was made a little harder by Kes’s own amused expression.

“You were all originally on the second ship, right? The…” She paused. “Li Nalas?”

Sullivan blinked, surprised anyone on Sikaris would know something so specific.

“Almost,” Li-Paz said. Even he looked a little taken aback at the woman’s knowledge. “We met Kes here on Ocampa, but both Rebecca and I were on the Li Nalas.”

“I am Eudana,” she said, nodding to the two women. Then she turned to Li-Paz, waiting.

“Li-Paz,” he said.

“You are Bajoran,” she said, drawing one finger along the ridge of her nose. “So does that mean you are related to the Li Nalas who your ship was named for?”

Another surprised look crossed Li-Paz’s face, but he nodded, slowly. “Distantly, yes. How do you know about Bajoran naming practices?”

“Right now the stories from Voyager are the most popular,” Eudana said. “I believe Commander Ro told the local Magistrate about Bajoran naming practices. He has been telling all the tales she told him, to those in his inner circle, especially.”

Li-Paz smiled. “Well, it’s very flattering.”

“Is it true your group were…” She paused, as though looking for the right words. “In opposition to the laws of your people?”

Li-Paz blew out a breath, and turned to Sullivan. Eudana looked at her, following his attention. Kes waited, clearly not going to be the one to pick up this particular conversational thread.

“Well, the simple answer is ‘yes,’” Sullivan said, leaning her head to one side, “but of course it’s not simple.” She eyed Li-Paz, but he nodded, clearly happy with how she was handling this. “The short version would be this: there were worlds the Federation gave over to another government to forge a peace treaty, which sounds fine unless you lived on those worlds, and were told you had to leave. The Maquis wants to give those worlds back to the people who live there.” She was oversimplifying things still, but it was the first thing in the morning and they were eating breakfast for crying out loud.

“It is hard to stand up against people who believe they are doing the right thing,” Eudana said, which was such an odd thing to say Sullivan found herself staring back at the women.

Before they could say anything else, Eudana rose. “Thank you for your time. I understand you are hoping for help from the Magistrate. I felt the need to tell you I don’t believe that help is coming, but perhaps the people I know can offer what you need. You plan to stay here for six more days, correct?”

“That’s right,” Li-Paz said.

“I will speak to my friends, and we’ll make arrangements.”

A moment later, she was gone.

“Was she offering what I think she was offering?” Kes said.

“She doesn’t believe help is coming,” Li-Paz said. “She has to mean Labin, right?”

Sullivan took another sip of her drink. “I don’t know,” she said. “But she did her homework, didn’t she? She had a fifth of Voyager’s crew to talk to, and she came to two former Maquis and an Ocampa.” She put down her glass. “She specifically avoided Starfleet crew.”

“But we are Starfleet crew, aren’t we?” Kes said. “Isn’t that how Captain Cavit and Commander Ro both want us to act?”

Li-Paz and Sullivan shared a long look. They were supposed to be. She sighed. “I just wanted breakfast,” she said, then tapped her commbadge.

“Crewman Sullivan to Commander Ro.”

“Go ahead,” Ro answered a moment later.

“Do you have a moment, Commander?”

*

Taitt lay back on the long lounger, adjusted her wrap, and tried to shut her mind down. Sea air had a similar scent to it on nearly every world she’d ever visited, and Sikaris was no exception. The beach sand was exquisite, and the day was warm enough to seep deep into her. She tried to keep her mind on the sensations—warmth, comfort, sea-breeze—rather than the potential surrounding her, but it wasn’t a battle she was winning.

She’d taken a trajector platform to arrive on this equatorial island after spending the morning in the main capitol, and it was nearly impossible not to think about the folding space technology that had brought her here. She sighed, shifting in the lounger, then gave up, sitting up and pulling the backrest to a risen position.

Maybe she could read. She’d brought a book.

“Zandra, hello,” a cheerful voice broke her tangled thoughts, and she shaded her eyes with one hand to see the welcome sight of Abol approaching. Crewman Cing’ta and Lieutenant Baxter were with him, all three of them wore shorts and sandals, and carried shortish flat boards of some sort.

She’d heard Baxter had a thing for the gym; the man’s chest and stomach made it perfectly clear he was dedicated indeed, and Cing’ta’s broadness had never been in question—the deep blue of the man’s skin against the backdrop of the bright sand was definitely striking—but her eyes were drawn back to Abol, who had lovely shoulders, a lean build, and a smile that seemed designed entirely for her.

The bronze of his skin didn’t hurt, either.

“Gentlemen,” she said, happy for the interruption.

“Walter is teaching Cing’ta and I to…” Abol paused, eyeing Lieutenant Baxter. “Board boogie?”

“Boogie boarding,” Baxter said, raising the short surfboard.

“Boogie boarding.” Abol grinned. “I learned to swim in the lake in our city on Ocampa, but I’ve never been in a real ocean before.”

“It’s a wonderful experience,” she said.

“Well, you’ll get a front row view,” Baxter said, leading the other two to the shore.

It turned out to be a perfect diversion, not the least because neither Cing’ta nor Abol had the slightest skill at remaining upright on the small board as it zipped along the edge of the incoming waves. They fell, laughing, with what seemed like infinite patience. Baxter, for the most part, zoomed along like he’d been doing it all his life—for all Taitt knew, he had—until finally, after he’d shown off perhaps a bit too much, Cing’ta had grabbed Baxter bodily off his board on his way past and thrown him into the water with a loud splash.

Abol came up to the beach a short while after that, even though Baxter and Cing’ta were still at it. The Ocampa gestured to the lounger next to hers. Water glistened on his skin, and his short dark hair was stuck to his forehead and revealed the folds of his Ocampan ears. “May I?”

“Of course.”

He sat, stretching and even wiggling his toes. She hadn’t noticed he had nice legs before, but he definitely had nice legs.

“You seem distracted,” Abol said. “Is it because of the trajector?”

She turned to him, surprised. “How did you know?”

He rolled onto his side to face her. “I am finding the longer I work with Lieutenant Stadi and Ensign T’Prena with my telepathic abilities, the more I’m noticing how people speak without speaking.”

“Are you reading my thoughts?” Momentarily mortified, Taitt hoped he hadn’t been listening in to her ruminations on his legs. Or his skin. Or those dark eyes of his.

“No, no.” Abol held up one hand. “Lieutenant Stadi has made it very clear we shouldn’t try to do that without permission. It’s more that as she teaches us the nuances of thought and emotion, I’m becoming more aware of how we show them without meaning to.” He touched his forehead between his eyebrows. “When you are running over something in your head, your eyebrows move together, and you hold your lips tighter.”

“Ah,” Taitt said. He’d been watching her lips? “Nonverbal cues.”

Abol nodded. “It’s easier with you, because I know you best of most of the crew.”

She smiled at that. “Well, you’re right. I have been thinking about it. It’s hard as a scientist not to want to try to figure it out, especially when there’s something right in front of me that could explain so much about spatial folding.” She shook her head, looking out over the water. “I keep wondering how much of the technology was involved with the spatial mines we saw when we met the Numiri. But I’m a Starfleet officer, and I’ve been ordered not to even wonder, so I’m trying to just enjoy the sunshine and the water.”

Abol said nothing to that, and she turned back to him. His own nonverbal cues were on display now: a line on his forehead, his gaze lost to the middle somewhere.

“Now you’re doing it,” Taitt said.

His attention snapped back to her, and he nodded. “That’s true.” He seemed about to say more, then clearly thought better of whatever it was he’d been about to say. “Have you visited any of the market places?”

“Not yet,” she said.

“I wanted to go, but Cing’ta and Baxter said the crew have found the attention a bit overwhelming.” Abol seemed almost bashful.

“So I’ve heard,” Taitt said.

“Would you maybe like to go together?” he said. “I would like to see the cloth Daggin spoke of, but I think if we went together, my asking for it would be less likely to be taken for an request for companionship.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” Taitt tilted her head. “You’re not looking for… companionship?”

“It’s complicated,” Abol said, with a rueful little smile. “We Ocampa bond for life, and while it’s not forbidden and we’re free to enjoy ourselves with others, for the vast majority of us, until there is that connection, we don’t feel that kind of draw.”

She hadn’t known that about his species. “For life,” she said.

He nodded, a widening smile making his already handsome face all the more appealing. “Yes. The bond usually happens when we are four or five, when it’s time to have children.”

It occurred to her she had no idea how old he was. She knew the Ocampa only lived eight or nine years. Not for the first time, that thought struck her as particularly sad.

“Did you want to ask the others to join us?” she said. “For the market, I mean?”

Abol looked out onto the water, and noticed Baxter and Cing’ta had been joined by a small group of Sikarian swimmers as well. Baxter was showing one of them—rather unsuccessfully—how to balance on the board Abol had left behind. Cing’ta had no less than a half dozen men and women with him, and seemed to be telling them a story of some kind while they stood in the shallows.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt them,” Abol said. “And I’d enjoy the time together, if that’s all right with you?”

Taitt imagined her non-verbal cues were very clear on the matter, but she honestly couldn’t imagine anyone else she’d rather spend the rest of her first day on Sikaris with.

*

Veronica Stadi took a deep breath as she crossed the threshold into the main plaza. Her two days had passed, and she was back in uniform. She’d had a nice time—she didn’t think it was possible for the Sikarians to deliver anything less—but she was ready to be back on Voyager. Sikarians, it turned out, were far too easy to read. It took her no time at all to want to escape the open-air market she’d beamed down into, where even her best telepathic defences had struggled to cut out the desire of the various vendors to be the first to please her in some way.

Or, in the case of quite a few of the vendors, in many ways.

Still, it turned out both Commander Ro and Lieutenant Rollins hadn’t steered her wrong, and the time she’d spent in a cabin the Sikarians had made available for her had been delightful. The older couple next door hadn’t been anywhere near as cloying, and she’d enjoyed sharing stories with them. Unlike so many of the rest of the Sikarians, it had been sharing, too. They didn’t just keep her talking, and it hadn’t felt like they were taking the tales from her and considering their value.

Sure enough, once she’d arrived in the plaza, she felt the attention of the various merchants aimed her way. Happily, she also noticed Lieutenant Taitt and Abol had arrived a little early to beam back to the ship as well. Taitt, too, was back in uniform, and Abol wore the blue shirt and black trousers she’d seem him more-or-less adopt as his own uniform.

“Hello,” she said, making a direct line for them. “I guess I’m not the first one back.”

“Veronica,” Abol said, with his usual welcoming smile.

“How was the cabin?” Taitt asked. She looked relaxed, and like Stadi, had a small satchel with her. Stadi noticed Abol had a bag slung over his shoulder and an odd, rounded board of some kind.

“Peaceful,” she said. Then, curious, she turned to Abol. “How did you find the Sikarians?”

Abol seemed to grasp what she meant right off the bat. “They have… intrusive minds, but the techniques you and T’Prena taught me helped.”

“Intrustive minds?” Taitt looked between the two of them.

“Some species have louder thoughts than others,” Stadi said.

“Ah,” Taitt said.

“Here comes the Captain,” Abol said.

Sure enough, Cavit was approaching, and he was walking with Gathoral Labin. And though Cavit was smiling, Stadi had learned to read his body language well enough to know he was in diplomatic mode. Specifically, he was holding his shoulders the way he did when not feeling like he was getting anywhere.

“And here’s my stop,” Cavit said seeing their group. “Thank you for the talk, Gath.”

“Aaron, are you sure you can’t stay?” Gathoral Labin said.

“I wouldn’t want to take your attention and time,” Cavit said. “I know you said you had a meeting scheduled with one of the other Magistrates.”

“Fair enough,” Gath said, and the man smiled, noticing her and Taitt and turning his attention to the two women. “Your Captain is very focused. Hello. Gathoral Labin.” He held his hand to her.

The man’s thoughts washed over Stadi like a warm wind. She’d had practice schooling her features—being mostly among humans, who had a tendency to have impulsive thoughts they’d never act upon gave more than enough opportunity to master the skill—so she didn’t let her expression change in the slightest.

“Lieutenant Stadi,” Stadi managed, shaking his hand.

“Stadi is Voyager’s chief conn officer, our pilot, and this is Lieutenant Taitt,” Cavit said, gesturing to the other woman. “Our chief science officer. And finally, but not least, Abol, one of the Ocampa I mentioned.”

“Thank you for hosting us,” Abol said, as Taitt shook Gathoral Labin’s hand.

Stadi noticed he didn’t offer to shake with Abol.

“Beaming back with us, Captain?” Stadi said, catching Cavit’s attention and tipping her chin in a slight nod.

“Yes,” he said. He said another farewell to Labin, then tapped his commbadge, calling for the beam-out.

Once the four of them materialized in Transporter Room One, and Taitt and Abol headed back to their quarters. In the corridor outside the Transporter Room, Stadi touched Cavit’s arm.

“What is it?” he said.

“It’s Labin,” she said. “That man has no intention of helping us.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Cavit blew out a breath. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“No, Captain.” Stadi shook her head. “It’s not just that. He thinks we’re going to expose the dissidents, and he’s planning to use us to capture them.”

Cavit crossed his arms. “Ro mentioned something about some of the crew having odd conversations.”

“Labin’s using us,” Stadi said.

Chapter Text

Everyone had arrived in the briefing room ten minutes before the meeting was officially slated to start. Cavit eyed the group and decided the general mood of the room could best be described as grim. Clearly, news had traveled, the way it always did. Or maybe it was more that each of the Senior Staff likely had enough pieces of the puzzle at hand to realize the image being put together on Sikaris wasn’t good.

“No reason to wait,” he said, bringing the meeting to order. “There are three things going on on Sikaris. One, Gathoral Labin is doing everything in his power to make us feel welcome and comfortable and introduce us to as many of his people as possible and claiming to be trying to get us aid with the Magistrates to be allowed to use the spacial trajector to get closer to home.” He held up a second finger. “Two, the Sikarian canon of laws isn’t as accepted as Gath would have us believe, and there’s a dissident movement at play—which may or may not include the weapons dealers we met outside of Numiri space—and they’ve been not-so-gently suggesting to some of our crew they’ll provide us with the technology in exchange for our cultural database.” He raised his third finger. “Three? Gathoral Labin is lying, has no intention of helping us, and intends to use us to find these dissidents.” He leaned back in his chair, dropping his hand. “What did your departments have to say?”

Fitzgerald spoke first. “Kes was approached, as was Sullivan. A woman said she’d arrange for someone to meet them later, and she agreed that Labin was lying to us.”

“Li-Paz was there, too,” Honigsberg added. “And Durst said someone approached him while he was on a morning run, but again, it didn’t amount to much.” He paused. “And, there’s this part of me that wonders if Fenjesen and Cashawn were trying to warn me of something, too.”

Rollins glanced at Honigsberg, then cleared his throat. “Crewman Santos was approached yesterday with a pretty clear offer, but Crewman Korepanova says her conversation was a lot less clear. Cing’ta wasn’t sure, though he said in retrospect, some of the discussions could be read that way.”

“Tamal had a similar discussion at a restaurant. He’s not as sure there was an offer so much as just the warning,” Lan added.

“Vance, on the other hand, said they basically offered him a trajector matrix if he could get back on the final day of Voyager’s stay with a database.” Stadi turned to Ro. “There’s a pretty obvious pattern forming, no?”

“The dissidents seemed to have focused almost entirely on the Maquis crew,” Ro said. “Sullivan, Li-Paz, Cing’ta, Vance…” She sighed. “Pretty much anyone who got an overt offer was from the Li Nalas.”

“Right,” Cavit said. “It’s not like we can take them up on the offer, that’s obvious.”

“Is it?” Lan said. All eyes turned to her, and she held up one hand. “Hear me out. This is clearly a larger movement within Sikarian culture, and if they offer trajector technology to us, couldn’t that supersede the Prime Directive?”

Cavit shook his head. “I’m not saying it’s cut and dried, Ensign, but no. The dissidents are not the ruling body of Sikaris, which I feel puts their conflict squarely back into ‘internal affairs.’ We can’t interfere.”

“Trading with them would be supporting them, given how much importance they place on the gathering of stories,” Rollins said, and the clearly spoken support from the man surprised Cavit. “It might not mean much to us, but it would give them power the Magistrates don’t have.”

Lan sighed. “I know. I think it just rankles to imagine Gathoral Labin coming out on top of all this after he strung us along.”

“About that,” Cavit said, and the attention of the table shifted to him again. “It seems to me if I’m going to hold us accountable to the Prime Directive on the grounds of not interfering with the internal affairs of Sikaris—and I am—then it would be just as wrong to allow Gath to use us to quash the dissidents.”

“Captain?” Ro said. She’d tilted her head, like she was unsure where he was going with this.

He put his hands on the table. “Get the word out to the crew. We need to let the Sikarians who reached out to us know that we won’t be making any deals. But do it carefully. Keep things as quiet as possible. When Gath swings his net, my intention is to have him come up empty.”

“Aye, Captain,” Ro said. He’d never seen her grin before, but she was doing it now.

“In that case, we’ll need to send some of the crew back down who’ve already been on shore leave,” Honigsberg said.

“There’s no reason we can’t say we’ve given the crew the option of delivering giving gifts of thanks,” Stadi said. “It’s a core tenet of their culture.” She shrugged. “It can even be true. A book, or a recipe, or anything from the Alpha Quadrant, I imagine. Nothing as complete as our whole cultural database, but a small token? It would only be polite.”

“That’s a great idea,” Fitzgerald said. “We’d need to make sure we do it across the board. It’s less likely to draw attention to any single interaction that way. No one at the medical centre offered me any deals, but it would make the other meetings stand out less if I drop down with a thank-you as well.”

“Okay,” Cavit said, nodding. “That’s the plan. Spread it out, nothing immediately obvious.”

The group broke up, and he wasn’t completely surprised when Commander Ro hesitated to stay in the room with him.

“Something to add, Commander?” he said.

Ro regarded him. “I’m just impressed at your interpretation of the Prime Directive, Captain.”

Cavit waited for Lan, the last one out, to leave the briefing room before he answered.

“To tell the truth, Commander, what Lan said is a huge part of it.” He shrugged. “I do not want to hand Gathorel Labin any wins.”

*

“Alex,” Cash’s voice was as delightfully rumbly as ever, and Honigsberg didn’t have the fake the smile he offered as he approached the man’s stall. Cash’s heartmate, Fenj, turned, smiling just as widely at the sight of him. The market was nearly empty, with many stalls not even set up yet in the early morning hours.

Honigsberg was glad the two men were early risers.

“You’re back,” Fenj said.

“I am,” Honigsberg said, holding up the small package he carried. “Captain Cavit gave us all permission to deliver some thank-you presents. Are you two free to step away?”

“For you?” Cash waved one arm. “Of course.”

They moved away from the crowd, leaving the plaza after Fenj placed a cloth over the books they’d arranged on display. Once they were in a small grove of trees, Honigsberg turned to face the two men and held out the package. “For you.”

The two men opened the gift together.

“I’m afraid the covers and the pages are nowhere near as beautiful as the books you two make, but those are two volumes of fairy tales from my home country on Earth,” Honigsberg said.

“This is wonderful,” Cash said. “Thank you.”

Both men embraced him. Once he was wrapped in their arms, Honigsberg took a quick breath, and whispered.

“When you two offered to help me by speaking to the Magistrates, you didn’t go to anyone else, did you? People who might be willing to help us despite the rules?”

Fenj’s arms tightened momentarily. Honigsberg closed his eyes. Damnit.

“You need to warn everyone.” He continued to squeeze them both. “Gathoral Labin is planning to use the Voyager crew to find dissidents.”

When he stepped back, both men regarded him with widened eyes, but they nodded, and after another moment, they schooled their features again.

“We have another book for you,” Fenj said. “If you’ll let us give you another gift? And then, I think, we will perhaps visit Dedestris. It’s a wonderful planet, and if your Voyager ever finds itself near, you should definitely visit us again.”

Cash wrapped an arm around Fenj, and the three walked back to the stall.

Honigsberg was back on Voyager—a new book in hand—less than ten minutes later.

*

Taitt spoke to Crewman Telfer and Ensign Murphy, but couldn’t didn’t find Abol in Stellar Cartography. She asked the computer, assuming he’d be in the Mess Hall or the quarters he shared with Daggin, but was surprised when the computer said Abol was in the Crew’s Lounge. It was at the furthest point aft of the ship, and despite it being a lounging and recreation area, it didn’t see much use.

One turbolift ride and a walk later, she stepped into the Crew’s Lounge to find it just as she expected: all but empty. Two engineering crewmen were sitting at one of the tables, a 3D chess board set up between them. And on the opposing wall, accessing one of the library computers, stood Abol.

She crossed the space, and smiled. Whatever he was downloading it was large, but Abol always had a few PADDs going.

“A little light reading?” she said, finally within range not to have to yell to be heard.

Abol turned, and for the first time in the months since they’d met, Abol didn’t smile to see her.

“Zandra,” he said, his voice coloured with surprise. And something else.

Discomfort? Fear?

She looked past his worried brown eyes, glancing at the LCARS display. It took her a second to realize what Abol was doing—he’d accessed the cultural database, and was initiating several downloads of literature and replicator files onto a series of isolinear data rods. He had every port on the library access computer filled.

“Abol,” she said, her voice lowering in worry. “What are you doing?”

He looked down, which confirmed her worse fears.

“Were you going to give this to the Sikarians?” Taitt said.

Abol looked back up. His eyes flicked back and forth, meeting her gaze. “Zandra… I…”

“Abol,” she shook her head. “Tell me.”

“You said you couldn’t trade with the Sikarians because you were a Starfleet Officer.” He shrugged. “I’m not a Starfleet Officer.”

“No, Abol, no…” She shook her head. “Stop the downloads.”

“Zandra.” He bit his lip. “The man I am supposed to meet before we leave is going to give me a spatial trajector module.”

Taitt caught her breath. “When were you supposed to meet him?”

“In the evening in the plaza between the last two nights of Voyager’s stay,” Abol said.

“Do you have a way to reach out to this man?” Taitt said.

Abol nodded. “I do.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I thought… I thought this was something you wanted me to do.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Taitt said, not looking forward to that particular chat. “But right now, here’s what I need you to do.”

*

“How are we doing?” Cavit said, coming on to the bridge. He was nearly an hour early for his shift, but he’d barely slept anyway, knowing what they were trying to accomplish overnight.

When Ro answered, he realized he wasn’t the only one getting a jump on the day. “Honigsberg beamed back just now. There’s still some of the engineering and security crew left to revisit, but operations, medical, and science all report everyone who went down in the first three rotations has had their chance, or is down there now, Taitt said Abol is her last.”

“We also spoke to everyone already down as part of the fourth rotation, Captain,” Swinn said from Ops.

That meant everyone knew to warn any dissidents that might reach out to them, then. Cavit took a seat beside Ro. “I don’t imagine we’re lucky enough for the extra traffic to go completely unnoticed?”

“We’ve done our best, but if Sikarian security has been watching our interactions like we assume they have…”

“Captain, Gathoral Labin is hailing us,” Rollins said. Cavit hadn’t noticed he was early, too.

Cavit and Ro exchanged a glance. “It’s like I willed it into being, isn’t it?” he said.

“On Bajor, we call that tempting the Prophets,” Ro said. Then she leaned in closer. “Technically, you’re not supposed to be on duty yet.”

“Rollins,” Cavit said. “How do you feel about asking if he can wait another hour for me to be available?”

“With pleasure, sir.”

*

With the dark of the evening only barely starting to pink slightly on the horizon of the island, Abol took care as he walked along the sand, passing by the small tent-like enclosures and lounging chairs, most of which were empty. At the furthest end of the beach, a figure awaited in one of the tents.

Abol joined him.

“Welcome back,” Jaret Otel said. The Magistrate’s aide had a small satchel with him. “I’m glad you agreed to come, though I’m curious as to the sudden rush?”

It could have been what Taitt referred to as a non-verbal cue, or it could have been something Abol caught with his telepathic ability, but Jaret Otel exuded a self-congratulatory satisfaction. The man was exceptionally proud of himself, in this very moment.

“I’m afraid I can’t make the trade we discussed,” Abol said. “Though I brought—”

“Why not?” Jaret cut him off. No pride now, just frustration. He'd really wanted this, Abol realized.

Abol glanced around, but they were very much alone. “The Magistrate—your Magistrate—has been keeping the Voyager crew under surveillance of some kind. He intends to use the trades you and your group had set up with various crew to expose as many of you as possible.”

Jaret leaned back. “No. No, I’d have known. I’m his aide.”

“Is it not possible he kept his actions to himself?” Abol said.

Jaret shook his head, frowning, but then stopped, his expression clearing from anger and denial into something else: comprehension. “He’d get complete credit for dealing a blow to our movement.”

“I’m sorry,” Abol said. “But, I did want to thank you for the offer and your hospitality.” He held out a single isolinear rod. “These are tales Ocampa have passed on through hundreds of generations. I know there is no other way for anyone to have these tales beyond meeting one of us, and my friends and I had recorded them to add to what we were going to give you.” Abol paused. “I hope… I hope this is still of value to you.”

Jaret regarded the rod for a long moment, then took it. “Thank you.” After a moment, he exhaled. “I need to go. If the Magistrate suspects me… I need to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Abol said again. “I know this wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Our movement would have had so much influence…” Jaret sighed, then shook his head, clearly angry. “They won’t change. They’ll never change.” With an angry grunt, he picked up the small satchel he carried, and handed it to Abol. “Here.”

Abol frowned. “What is this?”

“Exactly what you think it is.” Jaret rose, and looked carefully out past the tent. “I suggest you use your ship’s transporters to go right back to your ship, just in case.”

“I can’t take this,” Abol said. “Our Captain was very clear…”

“If I’d been caught,” Jaret said. “Chances are I’d never see another sky again, at least not from the outside of a cell.” He nodded at the satchel. “It’s the least I can do, but…” He blew out a breath. “Before you go? You need to know something about how the trajector works, and why Sikaris is the centre of our network.”

*

The door to the Ready Room chimed.

“Come,” Cavit said.

Gathoral Labin entered with his broad smile firmly in place, but unless Cavit was mistaken, it wasn’t quite as genuine as he’d seen.

“I’d hoped we could meet on Sikaris, Aaron,” the man said.

“I’m sorry, Gath,” Cavit said, rising and gesturing to his terminal and his desk. “If I’m going to partake in my turn on your planet, I’ve got a lot of work to get done ahead of time to make sure I’m not needed while I’m gone for two days.”

“Two days,” Gath sighed. “You know, Aaron, I don’t understand why you insist on rushing your people through their experiences here. Our arms remain open.” The man opened his arms, as though Cavit might need a physical example to comprehend.

“Well,” Cavit said. “We have a long way to go to get home. Even if your fellow Magistrates do agree to help us with the trajector, it’s still a little over half of the distance we have to cover.”

“All the more reason to remain,” Gath said.

Cavit frowned. “Remain?”

Gath raised one hand. “Don’t pretend your crew aren’t tempted, Aaron. Hatil Garan is staying with us. And many of your crew who were already visitors returned over the last two days, did they not?”

Ah, so that was how he was going to play it. Cavit smiled. “To offer gifts of thanks,” Cavit said. “Tokens of appreciation. We’ve noticed the value Sikaris places on gift-giving, and wanted to make sure we made it clear how much we treasure the time we had here.” He shrugged. “And maybe it would make it clearer to the other Magistrates we would hold ourselves accountable to your canon of laws and not interfere.”

Gath’s eyes narrowed. “Is your home so much better than Sikaris?”

“It’s home,” Cavit said, trying to put all the value and meaning into the word he could. “That’s why we asked for the help.” He was tired of dancing around the issue. If Stadi was right—and honestly, every time Gath spoke he was more and more convinced of that—there was no point anyway. “Did you speak to the other Magistrates yet?”

“Actually, I haven’t,” Gath said breezily. “Some of them are travelling now but I assure you I will do it. I intend to act on the last day you scheduled yourselves to remain, though in the process I hope to convince you to stay a bit longer.” He smiled, that same wide smile he’d been giving Cavit for days now. “If the Magistrates do agree, there’d be no reason to hurry, correct?”

“If,” Cavit said, allowing his doubt to show through.

“I have to convince them, Aaron. It won’t be easy.” Gath tilted his head. “It will take a large amount of influence, and I’m working on that.” He paused. “Things like your culture’s stories, and recipes, and… chocolate ice cream… will help, but it will take more.”

Cavit nodded slowly. “Such as? Is it something I can help with?”

“No, no, I’ve got it in hand.” Gath shook his head. “You must trust me, Aaron. Enjoy my hospitality, and allow me to take care of you all in return. Who knows? You may even decide that your home isn’t where you’d like to remain.”

“That’s… not likely.”

“With an entire quadrant of new things to discover?” Gath said. “Sikaris has access to more new pleasures than you could ever experience in a lifetime.”

“But not the old ones I already treasure,” Cavit said. “Like my family. My friends. My home.” 

Gath shook his head, and the first real sign of irritation shone through. “You make it very difficult to offer joy when you insist you’d rather have something you already had.”

“One of my officers has been reading a book by one of your authors,” Cavit said. “It’s all about those first joys, he said, but also in how revisiting the stories of those first joys can bring a different, but not lesser, experience.”

“I’m well aware of the philosophies of Cashawn Amay,” Gath snapped, with real rancour. “The man walks the line of our cultural heritage, but make no mistake, Captain, he’s not someone you should judge our people by.”

“Well, Magistrate,” Cavit said, returning to titles. “It’s a sentiment we understand, and one I’d hoped you explain to the other Magistrates. But if they don’t agree, we’ll leave in a little over two days as planned.”

“I have offered you nothing but hospitality,” Gath said. “Is this how you respond?”

“We’ve never misrepresented ourselves,” Cavit said.

“Oh?” Gath laughed. “You are willing to enjoy our attention, but then attack our beliefs. It’s duplicitous.”

Okay, that was enough. Cavit was done with this man. “Wouldn’t you say the same of telling me you intend to speak to your fellow Magistrates, when it’s clear you have no intention of doing so?” Cavit managed not to raise his voice, but it was a close thing.

Gath faced him, and the pretence was gone, now. “I intended to offer much more than a trip home, Captain. I intended to offer your people a whole new way of life.”

“So why wait?” Cavit said. “And why string us along?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Captain.”

“Shall I do it, then?” Cavit said. “You intended to string us along to see if those dissidents you’re so worried about would make contact with us, and use us to track them down.”

Gath’s jaw clenched.

“It won’t work,” Cavit said. “I ordered my entire crew not to make any deals with anyone on the planet.”

“You had them warn the dissidents,” Gath said. “That’s why we lost nearly all of our suspects overnight. And my aide has apparently been kidnapped. Was that your people’s doing as well?”

“Of course not. And I’m sorry about your aide.” Cavit kept his gaze even. Apparently it hadn’t occurred to Labin that his own aide might be a member of the dissident movement. “We have this policy of not interfering in the internal matters of other cultures. I’m sure you understand we wouldn’t want to be responsible for any political changes.” He crossed his arms. “In your favour or otherwise.”

“You are hostile and vicious,” Gath snapped. “Your pettiness would destroy the joyousness of Sikaris. You are no longer welcome here.”

Cavit blew out a breath. “I thought you might feel that way. We’ll collect our people and go.”

Gathoral Labin turned and strode out of Cavit’s Ready Room without another word.

“Dismissed,” Cavit said dryly, once the door had closed.

*

Ro turned to Cavit as he came out of the Ready Room. “He left in a hurry. Told us to beam him down without even so much as a ‘please.’”

“I’m afraid we have to cancel the rest of shore leave,” Cavit said, taking his chair. “Lan? How long until we can get everyone back on board.”

“It’ll take a while, Captain. We’ve got both hemispheres and multiple continents to cover, but we asked the fourth rotation to stick together in groups.” Lan considered. “Give me two hours?”

“Do it,” Cavit said.

“What about Hatil Garan, Captain?” Lan asked.

Cavit sighed. That was a good question. “Contact him, let him know what’s happened and…” He shook his head. “If the Sikarians don’t rescind their offer, I leave it up to him.”

“Aye, sir.” The Trill got to work, coordinating with both Transporter Rooms. For a moment, he considered using the shuttlecraft transporters as well, but it wasn’t an emergency.

Ro faced him. “He realized we’d ruined his trap?”

Cavit nodded. “And didn’t like it.”

“I know I shouldn’t take pleasure in that,” Ro said, lowering her voice to keep it between the two of them. “But I do.”

“You probably never met Admiral Fitzgerald, did you?” Cavit said, pitching his voice equally low.

“The Doctor’s great-aunt?”

“That’s right.” Cavit nodded, glancing around the bridge and leaning in even closer. “She had a great term for men like Gathoral Labin: a smarmy git.”

Ro laughed. An actual laugh. Cavit joined her, then they both recovered their professionalism.

“Given the fifth shore leave rotation won’t happen,” Ro said. “Perhaps we can schedule holodeck time for those crew.”

Cavit nodded. “That’s a great idea.”

“And don’t think I won’t make you take it,” Ro said.

Cavit chuckled again.

The turbolift opened, and Taitt and Abol came onto the bridge. Cavit didn’t tend to allow the Ocampa on the bridge—technically, it was for crew only—but Taitt was a responsible officer and she must have good reason to invite him along.

“Lieutenant?” he said, as she approached, rather than taking the Science station. She held a smallish object in one hand. It reminded him a little of a superconductor magnet, though it clearly wasn’t one.

“Could we speak with you, Captain?” she said.

“My Ready Room?” Cavit offered.

She nodded, and the three of them went inside. They sat on the couches, and Taitt handed him the device.

“What’s this?” he said.

“It’s a spatial trajector module,” Abol said. For a man who’d just handed Cavit the potential to get forty thousand light years closer to home, he didn’t sound particularly pleased with himself.

“How?” Cavit said.

“Jaret Otel,” Taitt said. “He gave it to Abol anyway. I didn’t want to mention it until I’d run a diagnostic and a simulation.”

“Lieutenant,” Cavit frowned. She should have told him right away, and he failed to see why she hadn’t.

She held up her hand. “We can’t use it.”

He blinked. “Pardon?”

“We can’t use it, and Jaret Otel told us as much. He knew he was handing us something that wouldn’t work, but he didn’t care, so long as he got what we wanted.” Taitt’s voice was iron with disgust. “Gathoral Labin knew, too.”

“Explain it to me,” Cavit said.

“The spacial trajector requires an amplifier larger than anything Voyager could ever produce,” Abol said. “The only reason the Sikarians have the technology is geological.”

“Geological?”

“There’s a mantle of tetrahedral quartz on Sikaris,” Taitt said. “Without it? They couldn’t go anywhere.”

“It’s why all the trajector portals are to-and-from Sikaris itself,” Abol said.

“Important beyond measure,” Cavit said. “Gath said it before. They don’t have the same ties to a homeworld we do, but he said Sikaris was important beyond measure.”

“The only way we could use the trajector would be to use it now, while we were in orbit,” Taitt said. “Except I ran the simulation and…” She sighed. “Remember the spatial mine the Sikarian weapons dealers were selling?”

“Of course,” Cavit said. Then he titled his head. “You found traces of tetrahedral quartz there, too, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “And anti-neutrinos.”

“The ones that nearly overloaded the warp engines,” Cavit said.

“Our model suggests the amount of anti-neutrinos created by a spatial fold would be beyond Voyager’s capabilities to withstand, even if took the warp drive completely offline.”

“We’d have to eject the core,” Abol said. “We couldn’t even take the shuttlecraft with us.”

Cavit closed his eyes. “All this time, and it never would have worked.”

“And they knew it,” Taitt said.

“I believe Jaret Otel only told me because we decided to prevent the Magistrate from capturing the dissidents,” Abol said.

Cavit nodded slowly. He turned the trajector module over in his hands, then handed it to Taitt. “Keep this. When we do get back home, I’m sure Starfleet will want to learn everything about it.”

Taitt nodded, rising. Abol rose with her.

“And Lieutenant?” Cavit said.

She turned.

“I appreciate you wanting to make sure it wouldn’t work before you told me about it, but in the future?” He tried to keep his voice pitched somewhere between a rebuke and a simple order. “I’d rather be in the loop from step one.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He nodded, and she left, Abol following after her.

*

The moment the door to Honigsberg’s quarters closed behind him, he stretched his arms over his head and groaned with delight when a series of little pops ran up his neck. That was better. He undid his uniform jacket and all but fell onto his small couch, leaning back and filling his lung with air before releasing.

They had about two thousand hours before they’d need to replace the shock attenuation cylinders, and he, Durst, and Ballard had been considering options long after he should have ended his shift. They’d figure it out.

He rolled his head to the side, and smiled. The two books Cash and Fenj had gifted to him were still there waiting for him. He’d had the computer translate the first—which had turned out to be a rather stirring collection of the two men, how they’d met, formed their bond, and their ongoing encounters with others—but hadn’t done so with the second yet, which was much thicker.

He picked it up and opened the cover. The pages seemed different. Instead of the earth and jewel tones of the first book, the pages of the second were almost glittery, with threads of silver woven through. The writing seemed different as well. He wondered if that meant it was a different genre of story, and brought it to his desk, accessed his monitor, and pulled out his tricorder to scan the page.

The readings made him blink. The threads and symbols weren’t prose. In fact, unless the universal translator wasn’t working, mostly he was getting notations of some sort. He scanned and turned pages, and the more he scanned, the more the monitor filled with numbers, spatial relations, co-ordinates, and many, many images.

It took him nearly ten pages to realize what he was looking at—a sure sign he’d worked way too late and needed to sleep—but if anything, it made him go all the faster.

By the time Honigsberg finished and the computer had put all the pieces of the book into one complete whole, he was grinning.

“Honigsberg to Taitt,” he said, opening a channel on his monitor.

“Taitt here.” She was awake at least, though she sounded relaxed. Probably enjoying her evening hours. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“It turns out I have a book of every system the Sikarians visit with their spatial trajector network,” Honigsberg said, looking at the collected star-charts now translated on his monitor and grinning. The book included Dedestris. He turned his face upward. “You want to borrow it?”