Chapter Text
Enellen Dral slipped on a pair of gloves and approached the table of artifacts cautiously, as though a wrong move would send the ephemeral objects blowing away with the whoosh of her excited breathing. “Where did you find these?” She asked as she surveyed the collection, her voice barely a whisper.
The other Cardassian present, a man named Kital, spread his hands. “I wish I could say that the university sponsored a dig, and our students unearthed it on a wind-blown planet somewhere exotic.” He took a breath. “The truth is, we acquired them from a Ferengi trader.”
Dral stood up suddenly. “Have you—”
“Oh, we verified their authenticity, even if we cannot identify their place of origin.”
“Something about this one looks familiar,” Dral said, returning to the table and pointing out an ancient device. The face had cracked and weathered over the centuries, but a ghost of its former use appeared to lurk just behind the reality of the inert item. A few faint letters remained on what had once been a keypad, but they didn’t stir anything further in her mind. She snapped her finger in frustration. “Oh, I just had it, and now it’s gone.”
“We have dated it to about ten centuries ago. The component metals are fairly common, though there was an isotope that has a few of us suspecting that this is from an area in the Delta Quadrant.
“Delta Quadrant!” Dral very nearly jumped up at that, her eyes suddenly wide. “That was it! I was recently reading a monograph on Delta quadrant history written by an instructor at Starfleet Academy. Doctor…oh Doctor something. I can’t remember.
"But, he wrote that there was a great deal of technology-sharing in an area of the ancient Delta Quadrant that was controlled by a people called the Kazon due to scavenging, piracy, and trade. He talked about one particular species who ranged throughout the Delta Quadrant, a people displaced by a horrible disaster on their home world. It was…oh what was it?”
“Do you want to use the computer to—”
Dral waved Kital away. “I only use computers when I need to. I’ll get it. I just need to talk through it. Anyways, the monograph contained a few samples of the language of this people, and one of the letters on that device…” She walked back over to the table and leaned over the objects, as though willing their origin to manifest for her. She stood for several moments like that, quiet and immovable.
The silence stretched on for so long that Kital eventually moved to ask Dral if she was feeling well, when she suddenly spun around, her hands spread in triumph. “Talax! That was the name of the planet! And it was one of their moons that was destroyed. I remember, now.”
“You got all that from a few faded letters?” Kital seemed equal parts doubtful and impressed.
“Never underestimate the deductive power of someone with a hyperfixation, my friend.” She practically floated around the table in a state of delirious joy. “Talax was located relatively near the border with the gamma quadrant, but its people lived throughout the quadrant, even beyond Borg space, which, back then, was a sizeable territory. Oh, they’re an inspiring bunch. True survivors. I'd love to know how their civilization is doing now." She inspected another artifact with small metal fins, the points dulled with the centuries. "I have a particular fondness for Delta Quadrant worlds and their history.”
“I will point our research team in the correct direction,” Kital said, a little awed. “I thank you for your help, Professor.”
“The semester just ended, so it’s nice to feel useful again, Kital. Thank you so much for calling me.”
*****
Dral left the university and used the public transporter network to return to her apartment. She would have wanted to wander for a while and explore. She had lived on Cardassia Prime her whole life, and yet there always seemed to be more wonderful things to discover. Even retracing former sojourns through familiar streets and public parks gave her a deep sense of peace. She had experienced many an academic epiphany on one of her walks. But her conversation with Kital, thrilling as it had been, had exhausted her more than she realized. What she needed now was to relax in her own bed. You’re getting old, Dral, she told herself, though always jokingly. She had been teaching for twenty years and still felt as vibrant as when she’d started, though some days, maybe, her energy did deplete a little faster than it had before.
She entered her front door and noticed a blinking light on her comm terminal.
“The party never stops. Computer, play messages.”
A holographic image appeared above the terminal, a woman in a Starfleet uniform. Her species was unfamiliar—she sported a few elegant brow ridges—but her rank insignia was that of a Starfleet command officer. “My name is Captain Yeina Jirrok. I have a proposal for you that I think you’d be most interested in. I can be reached via subspace. We don’t have a lot of time. Please get back to me as soon as you can. Thank you.”
The image blinked off. Dral cocked her head. “A proposal from Starfleet, of all places,” she said out loud. “Computer, who is Captain Yeina Jirrok of Starfleet?”
“Yeina Jirrok is the captain of the Federation starship USS Voyager 74656-J.”
Dral blinked. “Voyager? Will wonders never cease. I guess I shouldn’t keep her waiting. Computer open a channel to Captain Jirrok.”
A few seconds passed before the channel opened and the Captain appeared on the screen, still in uniform.
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Dral asked, feeling more than a little apprehensive.
“Professor Dral. Thank you for calling back. I hope you're well."
"I am."
"How would you like to serve on a starship?”
Dral blinked. “I can’t say I would be much help in a firefight, Captain. I’m an academic.”
“Voyager is an exceptional ship. Her mission is one on scientific research, exploration, and cultural study. That’s where you come in.”
“I must ask, Captain, why you sought me out, specifically? Surely you have plenty of accomplished anthropologists in Starfleet.”
The image of Jirrok smirked. “My designs are somewhat selfish, in that regard. I read a paper you published about a Delta Quadrant species known as the Devore some years back. In it, you cited a number of first-hand accounts from my own ship’s predecessor, the first Voyager. I appreciated your scholarly approach, of course, but seeing the legendary pioneers whose work ensured that there would be other ships with Voyager’s registry number on that screen, I knew I needed you.”
Dral inclined her head. “I’m flattered, Captain. In that case, it would be rather rude for me to refuse. I do have one request, though.”
“Name it.”
“I would like to bring my books along. I have a sizeable library that will be most useful to me in my work.”
“Bring anything you need. Jirrok out.”
The screen blinked off, leaving Dral feeling as though she had just leapt from a cliff’s edge. “Oh well,” she said to herself. “If I’m committed, I must go all the way. Computer, open a channel to the chair of the anthropology department of Ibetha University.
A tired-looking Cardassian appeared on the screen. “Enellen?”
“First off, Kalain, why are you still in your office? I was expecting to leave a message.”
“What’s the second thing?” The man asked with a knowing smile.
“I am afraid I must take a sabbatical. You will need to find a replacement for my courses next term.”
“Anything the matter?”
“Oh far from it, Kalain,” Dral said, a smile lighting her face with happy warmth. “I appear to have been summoned on something of an adventure.”