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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 20:12:04 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net 
 

Title: Planet
Author: Julie Evans
Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com
Series: VS7.5 story 39
Codes: others
Rating: PG
Part:  1/9
Date Posted: 2/9/04

We are still around!

summary: While Voyager and Odyssey are dealing with the Vidiians, 
disclaimer: yada yada--everyone should know the drill by now!

Planetfall

A Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 Story
by Julie Evans

Prologue:

Stardate 57889.6 Datastream queue, personal letter n43.
From: Lieutenant Commander Michael Ayala, USS Pioneer
To: Lieutenant Ro Laren, Deep Space Nine
Routing: DQ Sec837--AQ Sec411 Rn554681.6Bj

Text: *Dear Laren,

*It's great to hear from you! Your letter didn't reach us on New Earth, 
as you hoped, but right now I am looking at the planet from the viewport 
in my quarters. I have a few minutes before I go on duty, so I'm sipping 
my raktajino and enjoying the view. We're in geosynchronous orbit over 
the northern hemisphere. I can see parts of the two large continents, 
and several sizable islands. The seas are a brilliant turquoise blue, 
the land masses are shaded from amber to deep green, except at the north 
pole where there are ice-capped mountains, and there are lots of white 
clouds in billowed formations across the equatorial area. The primary 
star is disappearing to the east, and the night shadow is starting to 
crawl in from the west, fronted by a rosy band of twilight. In a word, 
it's beautiful.

*Okay, it does sound pretty much like your average M2 planet--lots of 
water and green vegetation. But it's still beautiful. We've been here 
nine days now, looking down at our new home, so near yet at the moment 
it's off limits to all but the survey teams. We're still waiting on word 
from Captain Janeway that the treaty has been signed and we have 
official sanction to colonize.

*I can see you rolling your eyes right now! Yep, that's Starfleet and 
its unending regulations, crossing their t's and dotting their i's, as 
the old saying goes on Earth. I know you remember it all too well. At 
least I did have a chance to go down with a team to secure the colony 
site. We'll be settling on the smaller of the two continents. The Ocampa 
will have most of that continent for their resettlement, and we'll be on 
a wide peninsula at the southwestern tip, near the shore of the planet's 
largest ocean. The area is rather like the Keslet province on Bajor, or 
the lands around the Mediterranean Sea on Earth--hilly and dry, with 
very mild weather variations. It should be very pleasant. And it won't 
be a moment too soon.

*Most of the colonists aren't accustomed to living in the confined space 
of a starship, but they've been relatively sanguine about it during the 
journey. That's probably because many of them are refugees who 
experienced far worse during the Dominion War than the relatively minor 
discomforts of cramped quarters. But now that we're here the cabin fever 
has intensified, and tempers are starting to fray a bit. So far there 
haven't been any major conflicts (I won't bore you with the minor ones), 
but I'll be glad when the tension of waiting is over.

*Luis, Raul and Lajen actually adjusted very well to shipboard life 
(with the amazing adaptability of youth!), but I know they are eager to 
get down to the planet too. All that room to roam, and no imminent 
threats to occupy their minds. After the Dominion War this planet seems 
like a peaceful paradise to them. You and I both know there are always 
threats, but I'll be more than happy to keep up the pretense for them as 
long as I can.

*Raul and Lajen have both made several friends, and they're doing well 
in their classes. Raul has been spending more and more time in the 
animal bays, making himself useful rather than a nuisance, I hope. At 
least Mahara Tibuku, the head of the colony's animal husbandry director, 
says he's been useful. He helps exercise the dogs in the holographic 
meadow, and he can't wait to run them on real grass. Mostly he can't 
wait to get down to the surface so he can have Dobby with him all the 
time. That's the name he's given the black Lab puppy Kajee and I agreed 
he could have.

*Luis is doing well also, though he still tends to keep to himself. He 
does enjoy his classes, and he is getting more sociable, when Raul 
needles him enough. Kajee thinks their opposite personalities are less a 
result of their environments than their natural dispositions. I'm not 
sure that's true, though I want to believe it. It gives me hope that 
Luis's experiences won't shadow his whole life. At least the dreams that 
used to disturb his sleep aren't as frequent, which is a good sign. He 
has me now, and he takes being a big brother to both Raul and Lajen very 
seriously. Raul especially has done wonders for him. And, of course, 
Kajee's done wonders for all of us.

*But you know that, don't you? I never thanked you properly for giving 
me the push I needed. I was worried Kajee would regret her decision to 
come, but I think she's as happy as I am, though I know she's going a 
little stir-crazy too. The boys and Lajen seem very satisfied with our 
family unit, which is what we are now. I think we're all going to enjoy 
settling here for awhile, and starting a new life together. It may end 
up being more than the eighteen months I told you. But it won't be 
forever, I promise you that. We'll be back someday, and you'll barely 
recognize us, we'll be so boringly normal!

*Meanwhile, how are things on Deep Space Nine, really? I suspect you 
paint the situation cheerier than it actually is. There must be a little 
more tension over Bajor's admission to the Federation than you're 
letting on. And why did I sense I was missing something between the 
lines in that final paragraph of your last letter? Yes, Quark is truly a 
character, but is it only my imagination that you sound like you're 
getting genuinely fond of the shyster? I'd say don't trust him as far as 
you can kick him, but I know you can take care of yourself. As for the 
other--just a second, Laren--

*Sorry, I cut that last sentence off abruptly, but I've just been called 
to the briefing room by Captain Merves. It seems Captain Janeway has 
finally given the word. The treaty is a done deal, and we can start 
beaming down the colonists. I've got to cut this short, but I'll write 
you again once we're on the surface, and let you know how it's going for 
us. Kajee sends her greetings, and you can tell her sister to expect a 
letter soon. Take care, and give our love to all.

*Yours,

*Michael.*

Day One, USS Pioneer:

Commander Michael Ayala slipped into the only vacant chair in the 
briefing room. He was the last to arrive, though he'd come straight from 
his quarters, pausing just long enough to pull on his uniform jacket. 
He'd wanted to call Kajee, but he knew she had already started morning 
classes. She'd hear soon enough anyway.

"The virus is no longer an issue, but what about the insects?" Captain 
Merves was asking Doctor T'Pren. "Several of the survey teams reported 
that the bites were causing severe itching."

"I've treated the bites with an ointment that contains an analgesic to 
relieve the itching as well as an antibiotic to prevent infection. I 
have also formulated a repellent for the colony's medical team to 
distribute. It should prevent further occurrences."

"Thank you, Doctor." Captain Merves looked at his assembled senior 
staff. "Are there any further matters that need immediate attention?"

"We've been preparing for days," Lieutenant Harriman murmured, loud 
enough for only Ayala to hear, though Doctor T'Pren arched an eyebrow 
from across the table.

"We're ready, Captain," Commander Bryna Rees said.

Merves nodded approvingly at his first officer. "Excellent. Notify the 
first landing parties that we're starting the beamdown procedures. Tell 
them to be ready and at their assigned transporter in one hour."

"Yes, sir. Given the, er, regrettable absence of Ambassador Diaza, shall 
I notify Administrator Glera in his place?"

Merves's mouth quirked at Rees's rueful tone. Ambassador Diaza had not 
endeared himself to anyone on the crew, least of all the captain. If 
Diaza were here right now, he would be imperiously ordering everyone 
about and doing everything he could to control the entire process, Ayala 
was certain.

"I suppose you must," Merves replied to Rees. He took in his officers 
with a sweeping glance. "I think we all know our duties. You may each 
report--"

The door to the briefing room slid open, and Merves stopped in 
mid-sentence at the unexpected interruption. An ensign from Tactical 
entered the room, PADD in hand. "This just came in for you, sir. 
Priority from Starfleet Command."

Merves took the PADD and began reading as the ensign exited rather 
quickly, having performed her duty. At the thunderous expression that 
settled on the captain's face, Ayala wondered if the ensign had another 
reason for departing post-haste.

"What is it, sir?" Commander Rees asked.

Merves set the PADD down hard, and it clattered as he spoke. "The 
Romulan observers are to be assigned office space adjacent to the new 
Federation Embassy."

Several mouths dropped open. "They're staying on New Earth?" Chief helm 
officer Lieutenant Inaxa asked, her tone incredulous.

Chief Engineer Valinsky, his face glowering in the best of times, 
glowered even more. "This is Prolak's doing!"

"Perhaps," Merves said, while Ayala considered silently that it was more 
likely part of the original plan of the Romulan Senate. "Not that it 
matters. And they are not staying, Lieutenant. They are establishing an 
embassy post, in the interest of equal representation for the Romulan 
government within the Delta quadrant. Once Prolak returns they'll be 
leaving in their runabout."

"And just who is going to staff their embassy?" Harriman asked.

The captain shrugged. "Perhaps the Romulan government plans on sending 
an actual ambassador at a later date. In the meantime this will be the 
headache of the embassy staff, for the most part, which is one more 
subject for you to discuss with Administrator Glera, Bryna."

The first officer rolled her eyes but offered no further comment.

"Right now we all have other matters to attend to," the captain said. 
"Commander Ayala and Lieutenant Harriman please remain here for a 
moment. The rest of you are dismissed."

Merves waited for the officers to file out of the room before he spoke 
again. "Michael, since you will be head of security for the embassy and 
colony, I'm leaving it to you to keep an eye on the Romulans. I don't 
expect them to cause any trouble."

Ayala understood the captain's implication--it was up to him to make 
sure that was the case. He nodded as Merves continued, "Harri, I assume 
you are prepared to take over here as Security Chief, and that the 
beamdown process will be orderly and efficient."

"Yes, sir," Harri replied. "Security will be stationed at the cargo 
transporters, and at the turbolift entries on the Bay decks. I can't 
promise it will be quick, but it will be orderly."

"Fair enough. Michael, your people are set to accompany each beamdown 
party?"

Michael nodded. One of the thirteen security officers who now 
compromised his colony security team would accompany each party. He 
expected no trouble, but with over a hundred colonists beaming down at a 
time it was a better to have a presence, and to deal immediately with 
any potential conflicts.

"Very good. I'll expect the regular update from each of you at sixteen 
hundred hours." The captain frowned at the PADD in front of him before 
picking it up again. "Dismissed."

"Looks like you're going to have the easier job for the time being," 
Ayala said to Harriman as they exited the briefing room together. "I 
think I envy you, Harri."

"No you don't." Harri--Lieutenant Helen Harriman--smiled. That smile lit 
up her angular face. "You can't wait to get down there and settle in 
with Kajee and the kids. It's very obvious you're a family man first, 
and a Starfleet officer second, Michael."

Ayala couldn't deny that. It was common knowledge that he wouldn't have 
rejoined without his family along.

*His* family. Ayala liked the sound of that.

Harri nudged his shoulder. "Hey, you can wipe that smug smile off your 
face. There's no need to rub it in."

"Sorry," Ayala said, though he really wasn't. He also saw the gleam of 
humor in Harri's gray eyes. "As if you have any interest in anything but 
Starfleet."

"You're right," Harri agreed as she stepped into the turbolift. 
"Starfleet is in my blood, I guess."

Ayala knew she was speaking literally. Helen Harriman was a blue-blood 
when it came to Starfleet, a status informally conferred on families 
like the Noguras, Harrimans, Sulus, and Parises, who'd had a presence in 
the fleet for a century, or two, or three. One of her great, great 
grandfathers or something like that had even commanded Enterprise, the 
long-standing flagship of the fleet.

"Maybe one day I'll think about having a family," Harri mused. "But for 
now, I'm perfectly content playing the field."

Ayala grinned just as his combadge beeped. Before he could react a 
high-pitched voice filtered through. //Dad, we got called out of class! 
We get to go to New Earth now! Where are you?//

"I'm on my way, Raul."

//Kajee's packing our stuff. We might have to leave without you!//

Raul sounded more excited than worried about that possibility. "I think 
we have a few minutes to spare," Ayala replied dryly. "You and Luis help 
Kajee."

//We will! Hurry, Dad!//

"Sounds like you're holding up the party," Harri said, grinning.

Ayala grinned back. There was no party without him, since he was head of 
colony security. His family benefited by being among the first to beam 
down. "Raul's a little anxious to get down there. I must admit, so am 
I," he added as the turbolift stopped.

"No!" Harri said with mock astonishment. She smirked at him. "You have 
fun out there on the north forty. Watch out for those runaway tractors."

"Ha ha," Ayala said as he stepped out of the turbolift. "I'll invite you 
to our first barn dance."

"I can't wait," Harri rejoined as the doors started to close. "I'll wear 
my best gingham dress for the occasion!"

Ayala chuckled. That stereotype of the Federation's many millions of 
colonists was a source of good-natured humor in Starfleet, even though 
the majority of colonies weren't primarily agricultural. He was 
certainly no farmer, but he'd been a colonist before, and now he would 
be again.

He smiled wryly as a thought struck him, then nodded to a passing 
officer from Sciences. He supposed that in one sense his life had now 
come full circle.

^*^*^*^*

Distor Stann, recently of Keaynn, and now the last of his race, walked 
down a busy corridor on Pioneer. Those passing him looked preoccupied as 
they hurried to and fro, completing their final tasks before they beamed 
down to their new home. The frenetic atmosphere right now reminded him 
of the tri-tower buildings in the capital city on Keaynn, where the 
administrators and brokers like his father had rushed about, conducting 
the urgent business of their busy world. To him such lively bustle had 
always been the evidence of productive existence, the music of life. But 
now it reminded him that was no more for the Keaynnin.

A sharp pang stabbed at Stann's heart, intensifying the ache of loss 
that was never gone, except in the first awakening from slumber when for 
a few moments all seemed as it had been. Before he remembered the harsh 
truth and his next inward breath seared him, making it each day as if 
the loss was brand new again.

And every day, with every new thing he saw, every new story he heard, he 
thought of his people, and what they would make of it all. The priests 
and elders had concluded that the Keaynnin were the lone sentient beings 
in the galaxy. The best knowledge and data supported that conclusion. 
Yet Stann had occasionally looked at the stars and wondered what it 
would be like if, against all odds, there *were* others out there; if 
some of those pinpoints of light had planets like Keaynn circling them, 
with sentient beings living on them, perhaps even flying ships like his 
own *Seeker Ten* out to the stars.

In his imaginings Stann could never in a million teradorcals have 
imagined *this*. He wondered again how the elders and priests would have 
greeted the fact that the galaxy was filled with sentient beings, both 
benevolent and hostile. Some would celebrate, while others would 
probably greet the news more cautiously.

He would never know. He could only speculate now what they would have 
thought, and how his own parents and siblings would have reacted, 
because they were all gone forever.

"Hello, Stann. Will you be beaming down today?"

Melia Gend, a Betazoid who was part of a close group of several extended 
families, matched his faltering step, and smiled at him. Stann had found 
the Betazoids perhaps the warmest of all the people he'd met here, 
genuinely welcoming and deeply concerned about his welfare.

"I am in the last group," he told her. That had been his request. "I 
beam down tomorrow morning."

"Our offer still stands, you know. I hope you will join us."

"Thank you. I have been honored by your offer, as well as many others. 
Everyone here is very kind."

Melia's brown eyes warmed with that strangely palpable sympathy he'd 
felt from the Betazoids. It was not pity but a deep understanding, as if 
they had experienced a similar loss. Indeed he knew Melia had lost both 
family and friends during the war from which most of those on Pioneer 
were still recovering.

"The offers are sincere, Stann." She rested her hand on his shoulder. 
"We may come from different worlds, but we are all one here, and you are 
part of us now."

TBC

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 20:12:31 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net 
 

Title: Planet
Author: Julie Evans
Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com
Series: VS7.5 story 39
Codes: others
Rating: PG
Part:  2/9
Date Posted: 2/9/04

Stann remained silent, since he did not trust himself to speak. Her hand 
slipped from his shoulder. "We'll see you down there," she said with 
another gentle smile.

Stann watched her join several other colonists headed to the 
transporters. He was immensely grateful for her words, and he recognized 
the truth in them. The colonists had been more than kind to him, 
including him whenever they could. They were of more than a dozen 
species, and treated each other equally. Together they had a created a 
larger, unified fraternity fostered by many decades of 
interaction--their Federation--which defined them as unquestionably as 
their individual cultures they each represented with pride. Even those 
who weren't part of the Federation, like the Klingons and Romulans, were 
still part of an intermingled society, distinguished partly by their 
relationships with each other. Keaynn had never had the opportunity to 
join such an intergalactic community. He was the only representative of 
his planet's rich culture, the only one who'd survived to tell of it.

Stann sighed heavily. As determined as he was not to dwell constantly on 
the loss of his people, so he continually failed at that goal. It seemed 
nothing could quell that gaping emptiness in him.

"Hey, Stann!

Prebb, a Bolian and a historian by trade, approached Stann, a wide grin 
on his face. "Are you headed for the transporters?"

Stann shook his head sideways, the typical Federation motion to indicate 
the negative, instead of the Keaynn short upward jerk of the head that 
was more natural to him. "I will be going to the surface tomorrow morning."

"That's probably a good choice," Prebb said. He grimaced. "I hear it's a 
disaster in the transporter centers right now. But I'll just have to 
brave it, since Tarsh and I are beaming down at thirteen forty-five 
hours." He hefted the duffel he was carrying higher on his shoulder. 
"I'm probably running out of time--"

"You have eight minutes, fifty-two seconds," Stann told him, using the 
Federation standard of time he translated quickly in his mind from 
Keaynn corcals and dorcals.

Prebb's eyes widened. "It's amazing how you do that." He readjusted the 
duffel again, as well as the box under his other arm. "I wish I had two 
extra arms like you, Stann. I've gotta go. I've heard the turbolifts are 
crammed near the cargo bay decks too." He started jogging away as he 
spoke. "Hopefully I make it before Tarsh has to leave without me. He'd 
never forgive me! We'll see you down there!"

Prebb's final words were shouted as he rounded the end of the corridor. 
The Bolians were among the most gregarious and high-spirited of those 
Stann had met on Pioneer, always seeming to find enjoyment in whatever 
they did. He liked that about them, just as he liked the gentle empathy 
of the Betazoids, and the spirituality of the Bajorans. Each of them 
seemed to represent an integral trait of the Keaynnin.

Others were very different from the Keaynnin, but he liked and admired 
them as well. The humans, who were very brash but also intensely loyal, 
and the two Trill on the medical team were so wise and centered, old 
somehow despite their youth. The Andorians--well, besides Ambassador 
Diaza they were quite gracious. The Klingons scared him with their 
booming voices and fierce expressions, but he had to admire their 
fearlessness. The humans especially seemed to admire them without 
trepidation, which Stann took as an endorsement.

The oddest of all to Stann were the Vulcans, with their lack of 
emotional reactions. Odd, yet fascinating. In their straightforward 
logic there was no subterfuge, and no simmering hostility beneath the 
surface, as there was with the Romulans who they so strongly resembled. 
And the Romulans he definitely didn't like.

Stann realized he was standing still--delaying his purpose--and he 
resumed his course. He fingered the PADD he held in one of his hands. 
When he was still on Voyager Chakotay had offered him this device, so he 
could record his thoughts, and his memories. On Pioneer, Prebb had 
listened to his stories about Keaynn and its people, insisting Stann 
record it all for posterity.

Posterity. After Prebb had first used that word, Stann had looked up 
that unfamiliar term. It meant future generations, descendants, heirs. 
Progeny. When he'd told Prebb that there were no future descendants, no 
heirs to a world that no longer existed, Prebb had given the word a 
different definition, assuring Stann that the Federation sought 
knowledge of all cultures. There were even those whose actual job was 
pursuing knowledge of cultures long extinct, "archeologists" like 
Chakotay, who desired to understand people and events they'd never 
known, as if such understanding had intrinsic value in and of itself. It 
was not a concept familiar to Stann, but he had begun to understand.

Prebb's interest had spurred Stann to recall so much of his world, more 
than he would have thought possible. Not just the large things--like the 
autumn arts festival in Hewyddi City that had been the foremost 
gathering of artisans and musicians for over a thousand years--but the 
small things too. The sound of the Beynni birds warbling their songs to 
the sun at daybreak, the feel of soft Maselk-woven scarves on the skin, 
the sight of the brightly colored fishers' skiffs bobbing gently at 
their moorings off the Kertor pier in the early evening...

At first those memories had been very painful, even though he wanted to 
remember them. But now he had even more reason not to forget the 
details. For the six metadorcals of this journey to his new home, a 
place that was very far away from all he had known, not only in distance 
but also in so many other aspects, Stann had contemplated a radical 
notion. He was far from radical by nature, and at first he'd shied away 
from any more than halfhearted musings, and vague what-ifs. But as time 
passed, the idea had become more and more compelling. While it was true 
that the colonists treated him as one of their own, he was not one of 
them. He wanted--no, he needed communion with his own kind.

Stann stared at the data on his PADD again. At no time in the history of 
Keaynn had artificial means been used to simulate such a basic 
biological process. Since no such intervention had ever been necessary, 
there was no stated prohibition against it. He knew from his research 
that many species' represented on Pioneer required such intervention on 
occasion. Some even used artificial means as their primary method of 
reproduction. Despite the incomprehensible strangeness of it all, and 
the trepidation that filled him when he thought of actually pursuing 
such a course, if it could succeed--

The turbolift stopped and Stann quickly stepped out as several Bajorans 
stepped in. They smiled and called him by name, and he nodded back in 
greeting. He did not know all their names, though they all knew his 
name, as he was the only of his kind onboard.

He started toward Sickbay as the lift doors closed behind him. He hadn't 
scheduled an appointment with Doctor T'Pren, but he knew she would greet 
him with equanimity whether she was swarmed with patients or was engaged 
in quiet study. He even envied her impassivity. If he did not possess 
emotions, pain would not be ever present for him, nor this confusion he 
was feeling now.

Jim Morrow, a human Stann saw frequently in the Colonist's Mess Hall and 
liked quite well--even if his sardonic observations were sometimes 
baffling--had said that Doctor T'Pren even more than most Vulcans talked 
as if she'd swallowed a dictionary. Stann found her precise language, 
and her foundation in fact and logic, reassuring. He was particularly 
grateful now that she would consider his highly unusual and emotional 
request with a dispassion he could not hope to possess.

Stann stepped into Sickbay and found the large main ward completely 
deserted. Even the nurses and techs he'd seen here on previous visits 
were gone, perhaps already on the surface setting up the medical 
facility. He knew most of them would remain behind to render their 
services to the colonists.

There was a movement in the doctor's office, and T'Pren stepped out. She 
didn't react with any surprise at his presence, but waited for him to speak.

"Doctor T'Pren." Stann bowed his head slowly, a traditional Keaynnin 
deference to someone of great status he couldn't--and didn't want 
to--break. "I hope this is not a bad time. I have an urgent matter I 
wish to discuss with you."

T'Pren waved him into her office. As Stann sat in the chair she 
indicated she did not move behind her desk, but took a second chair next 
to his. She faced him, her gaze astute, as if she already knew what he 
was about to say (though how could she?). Her first words seemed to 
confirm that interpretation.

"I have been expecting you."

^*^*^*^*^*^

New Earth, early evening:

Jim Morrow crested the hill he been climbing for the past ten minutes 
and immediately leaned over, hands braced on his knees, to catch his 
breath. He was winded from the short climb. Four months on a starship 
had undone whatever conditioning he'd managed to acquire during his 
stint on Hellstone. Pioneer had gym facilities and holodecks, but with 
over two thousand colonists and nearly two hundred crew, both were 
constantly booked and overcrowded. He wasn't all that fond of crowds, 
which was part of the attraction of New Earth. There would certainly be 
no crowding here.

Jim straightened and inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of the 
evergreen trees around him and the fecund soil at his feet. Then he 
stepped beyond the trees and took in the view he'd climbed the hill to see.

To the north sloping hills gave way to steeper mountains that stood 
purple against the horizon. The coastal plain that spread to the west 
and south rolled gently, rockier in the south and dotted with scattered 
stands of bushes and low-lying trees amidst meadows of short, golden 
grasses. It was bisected by a narrow river, visible by the dense ribbon 
of taller trees that lined its length. The river, and its several 
tributary creeks, flowed into the sea two kilometers to the south and 
southwest.

Or maybe it was an ocean. He was never sure about the distinction. He 
took another deep breath of fresh air. He detected a sweet scent, 
perhaps from the bright blue wildflowers that dotted the grass around 
his feet. The sun, slightly more orange than Sol appeared on Earth, rose 
in the west and set in the east, and it was low behind him now in the 
early evening sky, its coppery light filtering through the trees behind 
him, where more hills faded into the east.

Reflected in the slanted sunlight, and spread across a kilometer or so 
of the coastal plain below him, were the temporary shelters of the 
nearly two thousand colonists who had already beamed down, along with 
scattered piles of building materials, crates, equipment, small pieces 
of furniture and household goods. Practically dead center was the site 
of the future embassy building, the Federation flag already flying over 
it somewhat imperiously. The Romulan runabout was parked nearby and Jim 
was surprised they hadn't stuck the Romulan flag on it, for equal 
representation. The colony's own fleet of six shuttles were lined up on 
a flat meadow practically straight down the hill from where Jim stood, 
where the future shuttlebay and landing field would be located.

Other than the peripheral location of the landing field and the 
embassy's deliberate central position, there was little order imposed on 
the settlement, though shelters were generally arranged in family 
groupings. He noted that the small Klingon contingent--a mother, two 
daughters, their husbands and the three children between them--had set 
up their shelters, which were less commodious than standard Federation 
shelters, somewhat distant from the rest on the hilly northern side of 
the colony area. They weren't being particularly antisocial. Klingons 
liked to be near their hunting area, and they planned to hunt here for 
small game, to satisfy their preference for live food.

While they weren't of the warrior class, and their matriarchal lineage 
was unusual on Qo'noS, the head of that clan was plenty fierce. The old 
matriarch, M'Resh, had drunk him under the table one night in the aft 
Colonist's lounge, even though he'd been drinking synthehol while she'd 
downed several bottles of blood wine with little obvious effect.

Jim smiled at the memory, then started as he heard several twigs snap 
nearby, disturbing the silence around him. A moment later voices joined 
in as two figures approached through the trees.

"--and I'm too old for that, Raul."

"Then you can be Cedric--hey!" Raul spotted Jim and pointed the long 
stick he was carrying. "Who goes in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Give it a break," Luis said.

Raul waved his stick at his brother. "Silenco!"

Luis rolled his eyes. "Hi, Jim."

"Hello, Luis, and--er, Harry Potter, I presume."

Raul beamed, while Luis said, "He and Lajen started reading those books 
in class. Now they're play-acting as Harry and Hermoine."

"I read them when I was a kid," Jim said. He didn't know anyone from 
Earth who hadn't read those classic tales as a child. "I recall being 
Harry Potter once myself. Now I guess I'll have to settle 
for...Professor Snape!"

Raul laughed at Jim's lop-sided sneer, then shook his head. "Nah. That's 
Ambassador Diaza."

Jim quickly converted a chuckle into a cough. Someone not quite evil, 
but definitely unpleasant and best avoided whenever possible. It fit 
Ambassador Diaza almost too well.

"This isn't Hogwarts, Raul. It's New Earth. That's Newww Eaaarth."

Raul ignored Luis and grinned at Jim. "Besides, I decided you're Sirius 
Black."

Jim's eyebrows rose. The accused murderer who'd been loathed and shunned 
by good wizards everywhere, except those few who saw the true person 
beneath the surface. He supposed there were similarities, except he had 
committed his crime, whereas Sirius had been innocent. He managed a 
brief smile for Raul. "Sirius Black it is. So, what are you boys doing 
up here?"

"Dad said we could explore a little, as long as we stay within sight of 
the colony," Luis said.

"And we can see it really good from here," Raul said, looking at the 
long stretch of shelters and supplies scattered across the landscape 
below. He pulled on Jim's hand. "Look! There's our house!"

Raul was pointing excitedly toward an area near the river where several 
shelters were clustered. Michael and Kajee's tiny figures could be seen 
moving around the shelter Jim knew was theirs--at least, he assumed it 
was them.

"It's only a temporary shelter right now," Luis said. "But Dad says the 
house should be built in a couple of weeks."

Raul, who didn't concern himself too much with exact definitions, 
shrugged. "It's still our new home. See, Jim, Angelo and Celes are right 
next to us, and you're next to them."

Jim had already erected his tiny single-person shelter, and he'd left 
his few belongings inside, unpacked as yet. As one of the original 
"Voyagers" he was part of the Ayala-Tessoni "family" by default. Though 
he'd been welcomed from the beginning, he sensed Michael's acceptance 
had recently been more grudging than genuine.

"Dad said since he won't have the replicator working until tomorrow, we 
can have a campfire tonight and roast the hot dogs we brought from 
Pioneer." Raul's voice rose again with excitement. "Maybe we can make 
s'mores for dessert!"

"And then we can all sing Kumbayah," Jim murmured sardonically, his gaze 
still focused on his single shelter. It was close to the others, yet it 
looked somehow lonely.

"What's Kumbayah?" Raul asked while Luis looked at Jim curiously.

"It's..." Jim shook his head. "Never mind." His boy scout days were long 
behind him, both literally and figuratively.

"You'll be there, won't you?" Raul asked anxiously.

Jim had tended to drift in and out of the "family" gatherings on 
Pioneer. As Michael had said to him recently, with more than a hint of 
irritation, he seemed to decide his intentions at the last minute. It 
was hard to explain his reasons to a child, though Luis's sharp look 
comprehended more than it probably should. It certainly had nothing to 
do with Michael's boys, of whom he was very fond.

He ruffled Raul's short hair. "I'll be there," he promised. The boy 
smiled back at him, satisfied. "But you two better head back down now. 
I'm not sure this is what your father had in mind when he said to stay 
within sight of the colony area."

"It *is* within sight, technically," Luis said, displaying a bit of 
adolescent bullishness Jim figured had to be a good thing.

"Let's go," Raul said to his brother. "I want to go to the beach before 
it gets dark. There might be some dolphins."

"There aren't," Luis said. "There are no mammals in the oceans here. But 
there are some octopus-like creatures that come up into the shallows. 
Octopi on Earth are pretty intelligent, and Doctor Tanaka says the ones 
here might be even more intelligent."

"Really?" Jim said, though he figured Luis knew well enough since the 
boy had been doing a class-related internship in Pioneer's biolab.

Raul's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Cool! Let's go look for them, 
Luis. Maybe they'll want to play with us."

"I wouldn't count on that." Luis gave Raul severe look. "Besides, you 
know we can't go in the water without permission."

Raul waved his stick/wand at his brother. "You're Percy!" he taunted, 
which Jim took as a synonym for spoilsport, then started to run.

Luis rolled his eyes again, with the tolerant exasperation of older 
brothers everywhere, then followed his energetic younger brother. Jim 
watched them disappear into the trees, knowing Luis would keep an eye on 
Raul, and keep the younger boy from wading into the water. He was glad 
they'd found each other again, and that they'd found their father. And 
that they'd all found Kajee, a remarkable woman indeed.

Jim looked down at the colony again and his lips thinned as he recalled 
his confrontation with Michael three days earlier. It hadn't been a 
confrontation, exactly. More of a civil dispute. But it still rankled. 
He'd wanted to take the boys and Lajen to the holodeck, one of the few 
times during the whole journey he'd managed to secure a reservation 
there. He'd even picked something quasi-educational; a 
mid-twentieth-century adventure story Tom Paris had told him about that 
contained historical references to the era. He'd expected Michael and 
Kajee to like the idea, not to mention the opportunity to enjoy an 
evening to themselves. Instead Michael had been against it.

*I'm not sure you should be supervising three kids alone.*

Those had been Michael's exact words. As if the snakes, or Nazis, or 
demons from the Ark of the Covenant could actually hurt the kids, on a 
holodeck with full safeties engaged, for chrissakes. Or as if he 
wouldn't be with them the whole time.

TBC

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 20:12:54 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net 
 

Title: Planet
Author: Julie Evans
Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com
Series: VS7.5 story 39
Codes: others
Rating: PG
Part: 3/9
Date Posted: 2/9/04

He'd cut off any further explanation Michael might have offered, ignored 
Kajee's attempt to intervene, apologize, or whatever, and left without 
even seeing the kids. That evening during his holodeck time he'd run 
another favored program created by Paris--Sandrine's--listening to the 
piano player pounding out soulful blues, and flirting with the 
attractive barmaid who served him syntheholic martinis. The next morning 
he'd gone to breakfast as usual with the Tessonis and Ayalas, and they'd 
all pretended nothing had happened.

Jim would admit to anyone who asked that he'd done little on Pioneer. 
He'd sat in on one of the building project meetings at Angelo's 
suggestion, but his strength wasn't in planning or design. He also 
hadn't taken part in the open sessions to draw up various community 
agendas, from street layouts to crop rotations, school schedules, and 
cultural enrichment programs--all that stuff that was apparently so 
necessary for the establishment of a colony. But who really wanted his 
opinion anyway?

And if he had been mostly idle on the trip here, what of it? To Michael, 
and maybe to others, it seemed to be a sign that he wasn't serious 
enough about his future. But why shouldn't he enjoy himself, hang out in 
the lounge areas with other colonists, socialize with those who were 
going to be his neighbors for the foreseeable future? He'd be doing his 
part when the time came. He had as strong a back as anyone, and it 
wasn't as if he was expected to do anything else.

*Or had offered*, a small voice reminded him. He'd acquired a lot of 
scientific and engineering knowledge in Starfleet--and far sharper 
instincts about survival than he'd ever wanted to know. Since returning 
to the Alpha Quadrant he'd deliberately allowed that knowledge to fade. 
Anything that reminded him of his years in Starfleet was something he'd 
rather forget.

Which admittedly had left him with a big hole in his life, and a lack of 
direction. He wasn't really sure what his strength was anymore. He was 
hoping to eventually figure it out here, though so far it wasn't 
apparent. No doubt that was a point on which he and Michael would agree.

Voices nearby penetrated Jim's cynical thoughts, and he realized several 
other people were on the summit. He peered through the trees and spotted 
a bright flash of color--the multi-hued jacket of Kimanji Zaji. Her 
bright smile flashed as she spoke with the shorter and more blandly 
dressed person next to her, Benda Akiva.

The archeologists had come to the Delta Quadrant to explore several 
sites, including the Briorii homeworld. They were an eclectic group, 
ranging from the cheerful and wise Kimanji, to the arrogant and 
egotistical Adamo. Jim supposed they were here taking advantage of the 
nearest high spot from which to get an overview of the colony site, as 
he had. Even now their gazes were fixed in that direction as Kimanji 
motioned with her hand.

She was waving to someone, probably another of her colleagues. Who knew 
this damned hill would be so popular? Jim couldn't see who was joining 
them, but with his luck it would be Adamo. He had no interest in another 
encounter with that man right now.

He stepped back, making sure to stay out of view as he started down the 
hill in another direction. It occurred to him briefly that his life here 
wasn't going to improve much if he alienated most of the colonists. So 
far he'd only managed a few of them, but he was sure he could improve on 
that number with little effort.

^*^*^*^*^

Day Two, New Earth, late morning:

Glera marked off the last item on the inventory list, assured that every 
pen, padd and chip was accounted for, and breathed a relieved sigh. 
Ambassador Diaza wouldn't find one item amiss, no matter how hard he tried.

With the ambassadors visiting Ocampa, only the support staff was here to 
document and organize the embassy's effects. And as Ambassador Diaza's 
chief aide, she was the one nominally in charge. She could have let 
someone else on the staff complete the inventory, but it was she who 
would suffer if the job was not done right. Besides, she didn't mind the 
temporary solitude. She could hear plenty of noise around her, but among 
this particular pile of crates and supplies she was alone.

There'd been no expectation of diplomatic duties to be performed on New 
Earth before the ambassadors returned, but there'd also been no 
expectation that the Romulans would remain here, or decide to establish 
their own embassy. In less than a day here, they'd already made numerous 
caustic observations. *It's quite imprudent for the Federation to build 
its embassies in such indefensible locations*. Maybe because hiding 
behind a blast shield or an impregnable wall of rock didn't exactly lay 
out a welcome carpet.

Then there were the outright complaints. It definitely wasn't what she'd 
signed up for. Still, the pointed sniping wasn't that different from her 
old job in the Import office on Andor. Tariffs levied on Vulcan linens 
but not on Earth linens, Tellarite contract infractions overlooked while 
the Orion Trade Imperium was fined, Ferengi worker rights violations 
ignored in return for favorable price breaks on plumfruit--it was all 
political, just like the diplomatic service.

She reconsidered her assessment when she heard someone behind her say in 
a cold tone, "There is another problem, *Aide* Glera."

Glera turned to the stone-faced Subcommander Leral. Her second, 
Centurion Tornak, stood behind her, his expression more animated, with 
annoyance at the moment. "What would that be, Subcommander?" she asked, 
wondering if there'd been another run in with the Klingons, who'd made 
no secret of their animosity to the Romulan presence here.

"It is those *animals*." Leral's voice was contemptuous, and Glera hoped 
she didn't mean the Klingons, though it was entirely possible. "The 
noise they continually make is unbearable."

Ah. Noise. Glera suppressed a smile. The chickens that some of the human 
colonists had brought were confined to a "coop" inside a temporary 
shelter for the moment, so their cackling was not audible from here. The 
milk-producing Bolian grgaats were located in a grassy meadow near the 
colony's northern boundary, and the "meeh" sound they made was so 
low-pitched it was also inaudible. The two dozen or so zhevas, felinoid 
pets of the Betazoids, were silent since they communicated through some 
sort of quasi-telepathic link. But the gregarious dogs of the humans, 
several hundred of them brought along also as pets, were the opposite of 
silent. They barked long and often, and the juvenile puppies yapped 
incessantly, as several were doing at the moment.

Glera gazed at Leral and Tornak innocently. "Which animals are you 
referring to?"

"The canines!" Centurion Tornak snapped, even as one emitted another 
sound dogs apparently favored, a howl. Leral silenced him with a look.

"I see. They do tend to bark, but I haven't received any complaints."

Leral's lip curled slightly with disdain. "Romulan hearing is superior 
to that of other species. Apparently even those Andorian antennae of 
yours are for decoration rather than function."

Glera did smile this time, sweetly. "Fortunately for us, we have a layer 
of membranes within our antennae that we can utilize to shut out 
distracting noises. It is a more...sophisticated arrangement than your 
typical humanoid auditory system."

Leral let the implied insult pass with little more than a slight 
narrowing of her eyes. "The point is, you have a complaint now. That 
continual barking is a serious disturbance to the natural environment of 
this planet."

Glera's antennae twitched. "I had no idea the Romulans held natural 
environments in such high regard." In fact she knew they didn't. When 
the Romulans colonized a planet, they supplanted the local flora and 
fauna without compunction.

"The issue is not Romulan regard for natural environments. As I recall 
it is your Federation who preaches with a great deal of sanctimony that 
indigenous environments are invaluable and should remain undisturbed. 
Yet here you are introducing alien animals that are certainly disturbing 
the natural balance here." Leral sneered. "How typically hypocritical."

Glera shrugged. "All colonies have some impact on the native 
environment, Subcommander, though the Federation does advocate 
minimizing that effect as much as possible. Bringing along non-native 
domesticated animals is the best way to avoid any chance of native 
animals becoming unintentionally domesticated. There are also locator 
collars on every non-native animal here, and the unidirectional force 
field around the colony's perimeter to contain them."

"The field should go both ways," Centurion Tornak grumbled, swatting 
away a large insect. He received another hard look from Leral.

"As I said," Glera continued, "the Federation interferes as little as 
possible with the natural order, including displacement of native fauna. 
That is part of the reason the larger continent will remain unsettled, 
by us or the Ocampa. You can report that back to your government, and 
tell them they can refer the Federation's Environmental Impact Protocol 
for Colonies guide to assuage their environmental concerns."

"Oh, I will be sending several detailed reports back to Romulus, be 
assured," Leral said.

Glera smiled sweetly again. "I have no doubt you will. As for your 
current concern, the good news is that within the next few days the dogs 
will be released to individual colonists. I'm told they'll bark less 
frequently when they are not in one large group. The puppies will also 
receive obedience training when they are old enough. Meanwhile, your 
runabout *is* sound-proof, isn't it?"

Leral's eyebrow rose. "Certainly you do not expect us to confine 
ourselves to our runabout?"

"Of course not," Glera said, though she'd be quite happy if they did. 
"But when the noise becomes too bothersome, it is a refuge."

Leral gave Glera a stony look and motioned to Tornak. "I see we are 
going to get little satisfaction on this matter. Good day, *Aide* Glera."

The centurion started to follow her, swatting at another insect on his 
neck, then muttering a Romulan oath when it bit him.

"The colony's medical staff has an insect repellent available," Glera 
offered helpfully.

"That will not be necessary," Leral snapped, without breaking her stride.

Glera shrugged as they strode away. She supposed she'd better make 
Commander Ayala aware of the complaint about the dogs, in case any 
started to go missing. It was just one more thing to add to her list of 
Romulan complaints to be addressed.

She shook her head. Who'd have thought she'd miss Commander Prolak's 
nonstop talking and annoying habit of watching every move she made, but 
she did. At least he made the effort to be sociable, unctuous as those 
efforts were.

"Glera, Neusha Patel is here."

Glera turned to Wang, one of the embassy's junior staff. "Thank you."

Patel was co-head of the colony's building committee, along with Angelo 
Tessoni. Glera quite liked the pair, who were extremely competent and 
seemed well suited to dealing with the inevitable problems that cropped 
up during construction. During their many meetings to review the embassy 
blueprint plans, she'd also bonded with Neusha over shared cups of the 
sweet mint tea particular to her province of Earth, and the delicate 
*me'chada* pastries of Andor that Neusha found very tasty.

"Hello, Neusha," she said to the tall, dark-haired woman who approached. 
"I'd offer you mint tea and *me'chada* cakes, but the replicator is not 
operational yet."

Neusha smiled. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm short on time anyway. 
Mei Wang said you wanted to see me."

"Yes. I have received an official communiqu� from...Governor Diaza." Or 
so he had referred to himself in the communiqu�. "He has informed me 
that Voyager will be here in four days, and he expects the outer 
structure of the embassy to be completed before his arrival. He asked me 
to relay that, er, request."

Neusha's lips quirked with amusement. "I see. Well, we'll certainly keep 
*Governor* Diaza's request in mind."

"Thank you," Glera replied. She knew from previous experience not to 
bother pressing for a definitive commitment.

"We'll be bringing the first materials over tomorrow morning," Neusha 
said. "Maybe we can share some tea and *me'chada* cakes then."

"That would be pleasant," Glera said.

Neusha waved as she strode away, the dark braid of her hair swinging in 
unison with her steps. Glera watched her as she considered her next action.

Despite Ambassador Diaza's sense of self-importance, the title of 
"governor" was largely titular. His argument to Starfleet that the 
colony was a mere extension of the embassy had been rejected, much to 
his displeasure. In matters relating directly to the embassy Diaza had 
the final word, but in matters that involved the colonist's daily lives, 
the Federation's Policies and Codes for Colonies dictated a democratic 
decision-making process. The colony already had its own project 
directors to oversee issues like construction, power production, 
sanitation, food distribution, and the like. None had so far shown any 
desire for input or direction from Diaza.

Glera decided she would not reply to Diaza's communiqu�. The ambassador 
would take a non-reply as acquiescence to his wishes. It would be more 
peaceful for all involved, at least until his return. Then she would 
find a way to placate him, as usual.

^*^*^*^*^

"I still think it's ridiculous," Angelo Tessoni said, glaring across the 
rows of prefab materials and supply containers that covered several 
acres of grassy ground around him. His wife followed his gaze. The two 
Romulans were striding toward their runabout, their heavy, padded 
uniforms looking out of place among the casually dressed colonists. 
"Even if they wanted to initiate diplomatic relations--like that's for 
real--who's going to staff their embassy when there are only three of 
them in the Delta Quadrant?"

Celes shrugged. "Maybe they'll send staff on a later transport. I don't 
really know. I don't care either, as long as they don't bother us."

"I do," Angelo said. "They weren't invited here, and I don't trust them. 
Has anyone ever believed for a minute that the Romulan government wasn't 
behind that attack on Voyager?"

"Probably not, but they covered their tracks well," Celes said. "We 
still have a treaty with them. And they were Federation allies during 
the Dominion War."

Angelo snorted. "Only to save their own hides. And it wasn't a very 
comfortable arrangement, if you recall. Those torpedoes they tried to 
store at Derna might well have been aimed at Bajor after the war."

"Maybe. But there are only three of them here--two right now. They can't 
cause much trouble with a security detail keeping an eye on them." Celes 
rubbed her husband's arm. "You know Michael is very good at his job, so 
why don't we just let him do it while we do ours."

Angelo sighed. "You're right." He directed one last scowl at the 
Romulans, then turned his attention back to the pile of supply crates in 
front of him. A few seconds later he shouted "Here it is!" as he pulled 
a crate out from the pile, knocking several others aside.

Celes smiled as Angelo tore open the lid, and ran his hands lovingly 
over the assorted power tools inside. Nearly as lovingly as he ran his 
hands over her. "See, someone just didn't log it right. No harm done."

"Good thing," Angelo said.

Celes shook her head. "You boys and your power tools."

"Hey, you should see Neusha. Even I'm afraid to get between her and her 
tools."

"You *builders* and your power tools."

Angelo grinned and closed up the crate. "I've got to get these over to 
the common. We're doing the grading today. It won't be long before you 
can start the landscaping."

The common was the designated cultural and commercial centerpoint of the 
new colony, where the infirmary, school, and other public buildings 
would be located. The horticulture committee, to which Celes belonged, 
had already outlined the landscaping project for the large square. Their 
planning meetings on Pioneer had often been prolonged due to the diverse 
viewpoints of the ten member committee, but she'd enjoyed every minute 
of it.

Celes had originally joined Starfleet for the new technical and 
scientific opportunities opened to Bajorans, opportunities so long 
denied them during the Occupation. She'd been the first in her family to 
do so, and they'd been so proud of her. But astrometrics, physics, the 
logic of mathematics, of stars and space--it all seemed cold and barren 
to her. She just couldn't learn to love it the way she loved tending to 
and growing living things.

Celes had expected her favorite pastime would find little outlet in 
Starfleet, but Voyager's small arboretum had been a particular 
disappointment. The tiny area of greenery only made her long that much 
more for the greenbelts on Bajor that were recovering from the 
Cardassian occupation. Once home again, she'd realized she had to do 
what she did love, what truly made her happy. The year and a half she 
and Angelo had lived on Bajor had only increased her passion. And there 
was no shame in working with plants and soil, even if that choice was 
another element of her family's disappointment in her.

But first, all the colonists would need to lend their skills to get the 
colony up and running smoothly. Her time in Starfleet had given her 
technical expertise in many areas, and she had offered to help set up 
the orbital satellite system. But soon enough she would be focusing 
completely on horticulture, and here her opportunities really would be 
unlimited.

"A credit for your thoughts."

Celes turned and wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. "I'm 
thinking how beautiful it is here, and how glad I am that we came."

A smile spread across Angelo's face. She knew he still experienced 
moments of doubt about this venture, and about being in the Delta 
Quadrant, the place where both of them had separately despaired and 
longed for nothing more than to get home. He also felt to blame for her 
growing distance from her family, but it wasn't just him. Much as she'd 
despaired, her time on Voyager had changed her. While she'd been gone 
her family had lived their life in one direction, and she had lived hers 
in another. She'd become a different person from the girl who'd left 
eight years earlier, not all by choice, but now she couldn't go back to 
who she'd been. And they hadn't been ready for who she'd become.

TBC

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 20:13:24 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net 
 

Title: Planet
Author: Julie Evans
Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com
Series: VS7.5 story 39
Codes: others
Rating: PG
Part: 4/9
Date Posted: 2/9/04

"Hey." Angelo dropped a light kiss on her lips. "I love you, you know."

"I do," Celes whispered, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder, hugging 
him affectionately. They were both silent for several moments, until 
Angelo spoke again, his breath ruffling her hair.

"Why don't you take a break for a few minutes?"

She pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion 
at his unexpected solicitude. "Angelo, we're not even sure yet."

"I feel pretty sure."

She did too, though she didn't want to get her heart set, just in case. 
She would know for sure in another day or two. She frowned severely at 
him. "Are you going to be one of those types, Angelo? Nervous and 
overprotective the whole time?"

Angelo grinned. "It's my prerogative, isn't it? Besides, didn't you 
promise Billy a letter as soon as we got here?"

She had. Hmpfh. "Fine, I'll take a short break. But don't think I'm 
going to sit on a chair eating *presa* wafers and reading holonovels for 
the next seven months just to keep you happy."

"Yes, dear. I mean, no, dear." Angelo pecked her on the lips again, his 
expression smug. She rolled her eyes as she watched him stride away, his 
beloved tool kit swinging at his side. She couldn't help the blissful 
wave of emotion that swept through her.

Her heart had already seemed full with her love for her husband, but now 
she knew it could be filled even more. She'd started to suspect her 
condition several days ago, but she wanted the first confirmation to be 
privately shared between her and Angelo. Securing a test kit from 
Pioneer's busy Sickbay would have likely sent gossip throughout the 
ship, so she'd opted to wait a few more days, until the colony's 
pharmaceutical supplies were available for use.

Until then she was trying to focus on other things, like settling in and 
sending word of her and Angelo's safe arrival. She sat gingerly on one 
of the plastic crates, testing it for stability, and pulled out her 
PADD. Now was as good a time as any to drop a line to her dearest friend.

*Dear Billy,

*We're here! New Earth--finally! We had to remain in orbit for almost a 
week, which was pretty unbearable for some, including me. But we all 
managed to hold out until Captain Janeway gave us the go ahead to beam 
down. It was well worth the wait!

*Remember that first time we saw New Earth from orbit? We thought it 
looked pretty nice then. I told you I thought we should all abandon 
Voyager and stay with Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay. You 
freaked out about the virus and told me I was crazy, but it seemed safer 
to me than going on without them. Not that anyone cared about our 
opinions, of course, and in the end it didn't matter since we went back 
and got the captain and Chakotay. I guess that was another indication 
that life works out the way it's meant to, huh?

*Anyway, it turns out it's more beautiful here than it looked from 
orbit. We've actually settled on the other side of the planet from where 
Captain Janeway and Chakotay were marooned. The climate here has only 
mild variations from summer to winter, which is fine with me. I never 
liked the cold much. (As I'm sure you recall, since you used to complain 
about the temperature setting in my quarters on Voyager!) The soil is 
very fertile, and suitable for a wide variety of crops. We're settled on 
a (fairly) level plain by the sea, though there are lots of hills 
surrounding us, and some mountains in the distance. There is a 
good-sized river and associated streams that flow from those 
mountains--a perfect source of clear, fresh water to drink! (Though 
we'll also have a desalination pump if the summers get too dry.)

*Does it sound anything like New Tuscany? Every time I look around, I 
think of the things you used to tell me about your home! Not only that, 
but there is a plan to grow grapes here and eventually produce some 
local wine! One of these days I might be able to return the favor and 
send you a case of New Earth Cabernet vintage, say, 2381! Angelo and I 
brought our last bottle of your cabernet with us, and we're saving it 
for a special occasion. (Yes, our anniversary just passed, but we 
decided to save it for the next one, for several reasons.)

*Anyway, speaking of anniversaries makes me think of weddings. I wish we 
could have been at yours, Billy! Amelia sounds like a lovely person, but 
I'm still trying to imagine you, married! I'm happy for you though! It 
sounds like you two have melded perfectly into your family. I'm still 
amazed how you slipped right back into your old life without so much as 
a bump. You're one of the few, but I'm glad someone could do it.

*That's not self-pity, by the way. Yeah, I do wish my family had been 
more welcoming. But I don't regret anything that's happened, especially 
coming here. Sheron keeps me updated on everything at home, and she says 
the family will thaw someday. Maybe distance will make their hearts grow 
fonder, or at least more forgiving. Whatever. All I know is that Angelo 
and I are where we're meant to be, and with whom were meant to be.

*I do miss you though! The transwarp project is still going strong, and 
maybe one of these days they'll find a way to get ships between here and 
the Alpha Quadrant in a matter of weeks, or even days. Then we could 
visit each other, and I can meet Amelia. I know I'll like her!

*In the meantime, I'll keep sending letters, and you better reply--and 
not three weeks after the fact! No excuses about being too busy with the 
grape presses or whatever. You've got a zillion people in your family, 
and it's not like you have to press them with your feet!

*I'll write you again in a few days, and tell you more about our new 
home. I may also have some other interesting news to tell you. Say hello 
to Amelia for me, and to all your brothers and sisters. I can't remember 
all their names (don't tell them!), even though you introduced us when 
Angelo and I were there last March. Say hi to the kids too! (Oh, and 
congratulations on being an uncle for the twenty-seventh time!)

*Oh, and one more thing. Those sniffles you mentioned, the incubation 
period for Vegan Choriomeningitis is fifteen days, so if you're reading 
this, you've passed that time already. It was just a measly cold, wasn't 
it? Aha, I was right again!

*Hugs and love,

*Celes*

^*^*^*^*^

"Mom!"

Kajee Narel started at her daughter's voice. She been indulging in a few 
moments of quiet contemplation and enjoying the feeling of the sun on 
her face, something she'd acutely missed on Pioneer. She'd kept from 
Michael how difficult the last few weeks had been, feeling as if the 
bulkheads were closing in on her. While she admired those who could do 
it, she'd learned quickly that shipboard life wasn't for her.

"Mom, Tamil and Juanita want to know if I can come with them to the 
beach. Tamil's dad is going to check the water salin...something. Can I 
go with them? Please, please!"

Kajee nodded at her breathless daughter who was bobbing up and down on 
her feet. "Yes. As long as you listen to Tamil's father and do whatever 
he tells you to do!" She finished at a shout because at the word "yes" 
her daughter had started running back toward her friends. "Have fun!"

"Thanks, Mom!" Lajen shouted back as she and her two young friends ran 
off together.

Kajee shook her head, amused. She was sure she'd been just as energetic 
at that age, but now just watching the children exhausted her. Professor 
Letreaux, the school director, had declared summer recess to commence 
with the beamdown from Pioneer, to coincide with the current season 
here, and to allow time for the school to be built and furnished. Until 
studies resumed in another six weeks or so, the children of the 
fledgling colony--all seven hundred fifty-four of them--were free to 
bide their time as they chose. Most were helping their parents unpack 
and organize their belongings for at least part of the day, as Lajen and 
the boys had assisted her this morning. But once they were free to 
indulge in their newfound freedom and wide-open space, they made the 
most of it. It seemed that there were children running everywhere within 
the boundaries of the colony.

Kajee watched her daughter disappear behind the adjacent group of 
shelters to the south. She waved to Prebb and the Bolian waved back 
before resuming his attempts to unwrap a large roll of fabric. Beyond 
the Bolians, there were more groups of shelters stretching toward the 
south and southwest. Just past the final group a bluff overlooked the 
sea, which was visible as a narrow line of water stretching across the 
horizon.

Kajee pulled her gaze from the pleasant vista and rummaged in the crate 
she'd opened a few minutes earlier, pulling out several dishes, 
including the glazed bluestone serving bowl that had been her 
grandmother's and then her mother's. She missed her parents, and her 
brother, but this was where she wanted to be right now. Her family had 
supported her decision, even though watching her leave had been hard on 
them. She'd suffered more than her share of painful losses, as had 
Michael. This was their chance to move on, to rebuild their lives, not 
only for themselves, but also for Luis, Raul and Lajen.

"Need any help?"

Kajee looked up at Jim, shading her eyes from the sun. "Thanks, but 
right now I'm just going through boxes, trying to figure out why we 
brought some of this stuff."

"Hmm." Jim smiled wryly. "I guess there's something to be said for 
packing light."

Kajee knew he'd boarded Pioneer with nothing more than a duffel bag 
slung over his shoulder, and that look of determined bravado he wore as 
a shield. She liked Jim, and she'd always seen through his bluster to 
the wounded man inside. He still didn't believe in his own worth, or his 
right to self-forgiveness.

"You're right," she said. "When I get to the heavier stuff, I'll call 
you. Or Luis, if he's nearby."

Jim looked toward the shelters of several Betazoid families some two 
hundred meters away, and Kajee followed his gaze. Just beyond them was a 
small tributary creek. It was little more that a trickle of water and 
would soon dry up completely until the winter rains, but it was visible 
by the tall trees that lined its flat banks. The trees reminded her of 
Bilang trees back home, and Michael likened them to eucalytpus trees on 
Earth. Her eyesight was good enough to spot the small figure reclined 
under one of the trees. He was still there, reading a PADD.

"Luis seems to be settling in comfortably here."

"He says he likes it," Kajee said. "He spends a lot of time alone 
though. I still think he should socialize more."

"He's been doing much better at that," Jim said. "I saw him around a lot 
on Pioneer, especially in the biolabs."

"He's got a strong interest in science, especially biology," Kajee said. 
She should ask Michael to encourage Luis to do another internship in 
association with his school studies. Or, she could always suggest it 
herself. She knew Luis liked her well enough, and she liked him, but 
he'd never made any move to take her into his confidence. That would no 
doubt come with time. "He likes to talk with the science staff. But I 
was thinking more of kids his own age."

Jim patted her arm. "Don't worry so much. He'll get to that. He just has 
to go at his own pace. We all do."

Kajee met Jim's astute gaze. "Yes, I guess we do."

"You guess we do what?"

Kajee turned at sound of the voice behind her and smiled at Michael. "I 
didn't expect you back so soon."

"The orbital main defense system is installed," Michael said. "Now we 
just have to wait for Tarsh to finish the weather control augmentations. 
If Sarah Mackenzie can get the power supply grid online tomorrow, we can 
start testing it."

Sarah Mackenzie was director of the power production project, and so far 
she had everything running ahead of schedule. "I expect she will. Did 
you decide on the limited version?" Kajee asked. She knew the subject 
had still been up for discussion between Michael, Sarah, and Tarsh, the 
Bolian who was heading weather control for the colony.

"We're sticking with the limited system over this continent. We can't 
really justify the power expenditure to cover the entire planet. 
Besides, occasional plasma storms have been a natural occurrence here 
for millennia, so I don't guess there's a compelling reason to change 
that beyond protecting us and the Ocampa colonists."

Kajee nodded at that logic. Michael's glance slid from her to Jim, 
acknowledging his presence for the first time, then back. "So, what were 
you two talking about?"

"Luis," Kajee said.

"We were just discussing his progress," Jim said.

"Luis is fine."

Kajee was surprised at coolness in Michael's tone, and Jim's eyebrows 
rose. "That's what we were saying," Jim said.

Kajee didn't like the tension between the two men. They were friends, 
bonded by their three years together on Voyager. Michael had always been 
sympathetic to the plight of the Equinox crew, given his belief that 
some of Starfleet's training strayed, however inadvertently, into 
indoctrination. Michael had been as happy as anyone that Jim had decided 
to come along, yet lately he'd become less tolerant of Jim's presence.

"I'll see you later," Jim said to Kajee when Michael remained silent. He 
shot a quick, sardonic look at Michael as he strode away, and Kajee 
shook her head.

"You two shouldn't be doing this."

"Doing what?"

Kajee gave Michael a reproving look. "You know what I'm talking about. I 
know you weren't happy about that fight, but it wasn't his fault."

"It never is."

Kajee shook her head. "Michael, you encouraged Jim to come here so he 
could straighten out his life."

"Because I thought he *would* straighten out and do something productive 
with his life. Instead he's spent all of his time sleeping to all hours, 
flirting with every girl on the ship, and getting into fist fights in 
the mess hall."

"*One* fist fight. And not everyone had an official position on 
Pioneer," Kajee pointed out. "Or a job that was useful en route, like my 
teaching."

"He could have found something to do. Angelo invited him to several 
planning sessions, but Jim never bothered to show up."

Kajee thought he'd gone to at least one of them, but she didn't bother 
saying so. "We're not on Pioneer anymore, which means everyone has a job 
to do now." She knew more than a few of the colonists had wearied of the 
excess leisure time, and were eager to be productive again. "And Jim is 
starting with Angelo's crew tomorrow."

"Um hmm." Michael's acknowledgment was distracted. He was staring at 
Jim's small shelter situated just beyond that of Celes and Angelo. They 
weren't there at the moment, but Jim was still outside his shelter, arms 
folded, looking toward the sea. "I'll be right back."

"Michael--"

"You're right. We shouldn't be doing this." Michael brushed her lips 
with his. "I just want to talk to him, Narel."

Michael said her given name in that soft way during intimate moments, or 
when he wanted to cajole her, and Kajee was usually powerless against 
it. She watched him go, hoping the two would patch up their differences. 
They had to. There were varying degrees of family, not only the family 
she and Michael were making with their children, but also this small 
group connected to each other by their time together on the original 
Voyager. She didn't want Michael and Jim to strain that connection, or 
lose it. Out here all they had was each other.

TBC

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 20:13:46 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net 
 

Title: Planet
Author: Julie Evans
Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com
Series: VS7.5 story 39
Codes: others
Rating: PG
Part:  5/9
Date Posted: 2/9/04

^*^*^*^*^

Jim saw Michael coming. He could have walked away, but that would just 
be delaying the inevitable. They'd ignored each other last night during 
the barbecue, letting the kids' excitement keep everyone occupied, but 
they couldn't ignore each other forever. They might as well settle it 
now. And if Michael wanted him gone, he would be. There was plenty of 
room here. Heck, there was a whole planet, and maybe the Ocampa would 
welcome him--

"Jim."

Jim pasted a smile on his face as Michael approached. "Hey, Michael." He 
motioned toward the cooler next to him. "Want a beer? It's pretty warm 
today, and a nice cold drink--"

"No, thanks."

Jim shrugged and pulled one out for himself. He pressed the cap release 
and heard the satisfying hiss of air escaping as the bottle cap popped 
open. "So, what's up?"

Michael frowned at his flippant question. "Do you plan on getting your 
shit together, Jim?"

Well, that was blunt. "I'm here, aren't I?" Jim said blandly.

"Are you?" Michael asked. "Look, your personal life is your business. If 
you want to drink, pick fights, and hop from woman to woman--"

Jim's guffaw cut off Michael's words. "First of all, how much hopping 
can I do here, considering the small number of single women?"

"It didn't seem to stop you on Pioneer."

"That was called flirting," Jim said. Since when was that a crime? "It's 
a harmless social interaction. And they flirted back." Most of them, 
anyway. "As for fights, I don't pick 'em, but I'm not going to ignore 
someone who's spoiling for one. Oh, and I drink synthehol now. You know 
that."

Michael glanced at the beer in Jim's hand. "Yes, I do. Which means you 
aren't mentally or physically impaired, and you don't have a hangover 
the next day. Yet you do seem to need artificial assistance to enjoy 
yourself. Maybe even to feel good about yourself."

"Really?" Jim asked sarcastically. "Have you noticed that plenty of 
people on Pioneer enjoy synthehol? I've seen you drink it. Do you need 
it to feel good about yourself, Michael?"

"No, I don't. That's the difference."

Jim took a long drink from the beer bottle while Michael watched him 
steadily. "Are these criticisms of my lifestyle your way of telling me 
you want me to pack up and move my shelter to another location?"

Michael looked startled. "Of course not. I just want you to understand 
my position."

"Which is?"

"I'm not interested in watching you do the same things over and over 
again. More importantly, I don't want my kids watching it."

Jim stiffened. "You've already made it apparent that you don't trust me 
around them, even on a holodeck. I can't believe you think I'd actually 
let them come to harm--"

"I don't believe that," Michael said. He sighed. "I admit I probably 
overreacted the other night. I know you wouldn't let them come to 
physical harm. But they look up to you, Jim. You have an influence on 
them, and when they see you getting into fist fights, or--

"It was *one* fight," Jim interjected. "And Adamo threw the first punch."

"Maybe, but you threw the second. And the third. And the fourth."

"Okay." Jim wasn't going to deny that. He had fast reflexes, and he knew 
how to use them. "But Adamo deserved it. He shouldn't shoot off his mouth."

"Right. What was it he said again? That Chakotay knew how to marry the 
right woman?"

Jim shrugged. "It was the implication." As if Chakotay married Captain 
Janeway simply to take advantage of her position in Starfleet to further 
his own ends.

"So you have to call him an arrogant prick to his face?"

"What was I supposed to do?"

"Walk away?" Michael said. "Save me from having to put you in the brig 
to cool off? Captain Janeway and Chakotay certainly don't care what 
Adamo may think of their relationship, and I doubt they'd want to give 
him the satisfaction of his words receiving any regard at all."

Jim hadn't thought of it that way. He just had the urge to wipe that 
smug look off Adamo's face every time he saw him, and he'd finally let 
that urge take control. "Maybe I should have held my temper," he 
conceded. Especially when Michael's boys had been there, watching. "But 
people like Adamo, and Diaza--"

"Are windbags," Michael finished. "And best ignored."

That was easier said than done, at least for him. "I'll work on it," Jim 
said. He wasn't going to make any promises, but he would try.

"Fair enough," Michael said. He paused for a moment, and his expression 
became solemn. "You can have a great life here, Jim, if you want it. No 
one's standing in your way. We're *all* starting over, and the past 
doesn't mean anything here."

Except that all pasts weren't created equal. Admiral Diaza and a few of 
Pioneer's crew had made Jim aware of that in subtle ways. He shook his 
head. "I don't think everyone has just forgetten my past."

"I doubt most of them even know about it, though it doesn't really 
matter. It's not they who have to forget, Jim. It's *you*."

Jim lips lifted in a skeptical smirk. "Me?"

"Think about it," Michael said. "I'm going go to help Kajee finish our 
unpacking. I'll see you at dinner."

Michael walked away without waiting for a reply. Jim watched him as he 
reached Kajee. She smiled and touched his arm, then slid her hand down 
until their fingers locked. It was a casual gesture, but an intimate 
one, an indication of the abiding connection between them. And it made 
Jim envious.

He turned away as the two disappeared into their shelter, surprised by 
his reaction. He hadn't been in the market for that kind of attachment, 
certainly not since his return to the Alpha Quadrant. He'd deliberately 
avoided reunions with old friends and what little family he had left, 
and the occasional liaisons he'd had with women had been nothing more 
than quick, physical mergers. That had been his choice. Angelo had 
chosen to bond with Celes, while Noah had reconnected with his daughter, 
Hannah. If Jim had wanted someone's unconditional support, or someone to 
serve as a deeper reason for putting his messed up life back together, 
then he'd have someone. Wouldn't he?

He couldn't help thinking of Marla. She'd had Harry Kim's unconditional 
devotion. She'd found what she longed for but she'd turned it away, 
convinced she didn't deserve it. She'd refused to believe that her worth 
wasn't inextricably tied to her past. He and Noah had both tried to 
reason with her, to no avail. Now it seemed he wasn't really any 
different at all.

It wasn't a cheery thought. He was emotionally isolated and without 
direction--despite coming to New Earth to find a new direction--because 
he wanted it that way, not because anyone was standing in his way. Not 
because anyone here, or back in the Alpha Quadrant, cared much whether 
he succeeded or failed, but because he was flat out afraid to try again.

Jim looked at the half empty bottle in his hand. Then again, maybe his 
thinking was screwed up, as usual. Who said he needed *this* to feel 
good about himself, except Michael? If that were true, it would be 
working a lot better--

Jim overturned the bottle and poured out the rest of the synthehol. It 
was warm anyway. He glanced back at his shelter, where his belongings 
were now unpacked and arranged orderly enough to pass a Starfleet 
inspection. He was as settled as a man who had next to nothing could be.

He tossed the empty bottle into his recycle container and started 
walking northeast, toward the common site. Even though the actual 
building wouldn't start until tomorrow, there had to be something he 
could do for Angelo. Unpack tools, stack lumber, measure the structure 
markings, whatever. It would be better than loitering in front of his 
shelter, with nothing to do but think.

^*^*^*^*^

Day Three, USS Pioneer, morning:

Doctor T'Pren sat at her desk with fingers steepled, brow furrowed, and 
mouth set in a tight line. She was not upset in the human sense of 
emotional distress, but she was disquieted. She had rechecked the data 
three times, diligently looking for any refutation of her findings. 
She'd found none. Unfortunately there was no other conclusion. An error 
had been made, a grievous one, and it must be corrected immediately. But 
first she had to inform the captain.

T'Pren pressed several keys on her console, initiating the necessary 
database search. By the time she returned the information she would need 
to formulate the appropriate remedy should be ready. She rose from her 
chair and was headed for the door when her combadge beeped.

//Doctor T'Pren, this is Doctor Binet. We haven't received the altered 
formula for the repellent yet. Is there a problem?//

"Indeed, there is." It was Doctor Binet's request less than an hour ago 
that had led T'Pren to her current discovery. "My research indicates 
that the repellent will not be effective. I am devising an alternative 
treatment."

"An alternative treatment?" Margot Binet's tone was baffled. "But I 
thought Romulans were genetically linked to Vulcans. It should be easy 
enough to adjust the repellent to their--"

"There is an additional complication, Doctor. I must consult with the 
captain, but I will contact you shortly. Please wait for my call."

T'Pren closed the channel before Doctor Binet could ask further 
questions. She calculated that she had twenty point three minutes before 
the computer retrieved all the data she required. That would be time 
enough to apprise Captain Merves of the current lamentable development, 
as well as inform him of the situation with Distor Stann. Perhaps the 
latter would lessen the unpleasant impact of the former.

^*^*^*^*^

Captain Joshua Merves poured a second cup of coffee--his limit for the 
day--and settled back into his chair, feeling pleased with himself. The 
transfer of the colonists and all their belongings had gone quite 
smoothly. In fact, now that he reflected on it, the entire trip to the 
Delta Quadrant had gone smoothly. He'd never been on a ship with over 
two thousand people, had never even considered what was entailed in 
running operations on a massive transport vessel like Pioneer. And while 
the ship *was* massive, dwarfing both Voyager and Odyssey together, it 
had felt pretty cramped at times.

Now it was almost empty. With the colonists now on New Earth, and about 
half the crew on shore leave, Merves figured there were less than sixty 
people aboard right now. Other than the occasional beeping of status 
indicators, and the low hum of forced air circulation, the ship was 
silent as a tomb, as his father would say. His father was an 
archeologist, so he would know.

Merves took a sip of his coffee. He supposed a colony could be a nice 
place to live, if you enjoyed that sort of thing. He'd lived in plenty 
of them during his childhood. He preferred to be in space, which was why 
he'd joined Starfleet instead of following in his father's footsteps. 
His parents had worried that serving on a starship was dangerous, but 
he'd seen enough destruction during the war--entire colonies wiped out, 
planets like Betazed and Cardassia laid half to waste--to believe that 
any place was completely safe. If they'd seen some of the things he seen--

The door announcer beeped, and Merves was glad to dismiss memories not 
worth revisiting. "Enter."

"Captain Merves." Dr. T'Pren inclined her head briefly in greeting as 
she entered. "I have two matters that require your attention."

Merves waved a hand toward the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat, 
T'Pren."

T'Pren sat, and raised an inquiring eyebrow before she spoke again. 
"Would you prefer to discuss the pleasant matter first, or the unpleasant?"

Merves' mouth quirked. Despite her Vulcan equanimity, T'Pren had worked 
with humans for a long time, and it showed. "Give me the good news 
first. Maybe it will make the bad news easier to take."

"Very well. Distor Stann has requested my assistance in propagating his 
species."

"Propagating..." Merves' voice trailed off in confusion. "I thought he 
was the only one who survived the destruction of his planet."

"Technically, no."

"I see," Merves said, though he didn't. "Well, that is good news, but 
you're going to have to explain further, T'Pren."

"Of course, Captain. Keaynnin biology is markedly different from that of 
most humanoids, particularly in the area of reproduction. On Keaynn, 
when a young male and female engaged in sexual intercourse, the female 
deposited an egg into the male's genital tract. The egg was then stored 
in a sac within the male's body. If you would like me to explain in 
specific detail the biological processes and organs involved in 
transferring--"

"Not necessary," Merves said. Clearly the Keaynnin were--had 
been--unique. "Continue."

"During this early phase of sexual maturity both males and females were 
highly active, mating frequently, and with multiple partners. Each time 
a male and female engaged in sexual intercourse an egg was transferred. 
At a certain age, a Keaynn female went through a final phase of sexual 
maturity, wherein she and a chosen male entered a monogamous 
relationship and married. At that time their sexual intercourse became 
limited, and focused on reproduction only--"

"Only?" Merves echoed.

T'Pren gave him a cool look, then continued. "During this method of 
intercourse the male returned an egg to the female, along with a wash of 
sperm. Generally this occurred one egg at a time, though there could be 
an occasional multiple transfer. The transfer resulted in fertilization 
and implantation of the egg within the uterus--nearly one hundred 
percent of the time if Stann's information is accurate--and a pregnancy 
occurred. A child was born some five months later."

Merves held up a hand. "Wait a minute. If I'm understanding you, then 
these fertilized eggs do not contain the mother's genes?"

"Most likely not, though there is always the possibility that the mother 
may have had intercourse with the father during the sexually open phase 
of her life."

"Interesting." To say the least. Merves was aware of a number of unusual 
methods of reproduction in the galaxy, but this one was stranger than 
most. "So, in Keaynnin culture it is paternity that is fact, while 
maternity is merely a rumor."

T'Pren's eyebrow rose at the captain's amused smile. "If I understand 
your idiomatic meaning, that is partially correct, though maternity is 
not even a 'rumor.' It is irrelevant. In Keaynnin culture, the woman who 
bears the child is its undisputed mother. In human cultures--and Vulcan 
cultures of the past--genetic parent issues generated much animosity, 
and a long history of sexual discrimination. Because of their method of 
reproduction, such sexual conflicts did not occur in Keaynnin culture."

"I suppose not," Merves said. Maybe that also explained the remarkably 
peaceful nature of the Keaynnin, as Stann had portrayed their culture. 
There were no sexual politics to feed aggression. "Exactly how does this 
relate to Distor Stann?"

"Distor Stann is carrying in his reproductive sac a number of eggs. He 
had not yet mated permanently. Among the Keaynnin, infertility was 
apparently highly uncommon, thus no methods of artificial reproduction 
were ever developed. Stann, however, has discovered that such methods do 
exist within many cultures in the Federation, and after much reflection, 
he has requested my assistance in exploring the possibility of adapting 
those methods to his Keaynnin biology."

"Can it be done?" Merves asked.

"Yes. I have reviewed the matter with Doctor Ibrahim, the colony's 
geneticist and neonatologist, and we have devised a method to extract 
and fertilize the eggs, then chemically stimulate the embryos to grow to 
term in the colony's incubators."

"Exactly how many eggs are we talking about?"

"Two hundred and sixty seven."

Merves' mouth fell open. "Two hundred..." His mouth closed again, while 
he tried to comprehend that number. "Is that feasible? For Stann to 
raise two hundred and sixty seven children?"

"Doctor Ibrahim will not remove all the eggs at one time. The intention 
is to stagger the births over many years. Stann has become quite admired 
among the colonists, who also sympathize with his plight. I believe they 
will be willing, if not eager, to assist him in raising his offspring. 
As for Stann, despite his appreciation of the kindness the colonists 
have shown him, I believe his mental and emotional health hinge on 
communion with his own kind."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Merves had also sympathized greatly with Stann's 
plight. He couldn't imagine being the last human in the galaxy. The mere 
thought gave him the willies. To know that humankind was extinct, that 
he was totally alone--the last of his kind--he didn't know if he could 
live with that knowledge. He wasn't even going to entertain the thought 
of Earth--its people, its culture--its entire history--obliterated from 
existence.

TBC

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Subject: [ASC] NEW VS7.5 Planet [PG] (others) 6/9
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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 20:14:09 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net 
 

Title: Planet
Author: Julie Evans
Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com
Series: VS7.5 story 39
Codes: others
Rating: PG
Part:  6/9
Date Posted: 2/9/04

"There is another issue, Captain," T'Pren said. "That of saving the 
Keaynnin as a species. Stann's offspring will all be half-siblings, yet 
they will have the natural desire to propagate their species. While 
close relatives are generally discouraged from reproducing in most 
cultures--including Keaynnin culture--to avoid inbreeding of genetically 
undesirable traits, genetic variations can be artificially introduced to 
diversify the gene pool. Since the Keaynnin reach sexual maturity in 
approximately twelve years, within a century they may be able to produce 
a sustainable population."

Merves had seen few greater tragedies than what had happened to the 
Keaynnin. Even the worlds most devastated during the Dominion War were 
starting to rebuild and repopulate. To save a species that no longer 
existed except in a single living individual was nothing short of 
amazing. "You think it can actually be done? Revive an entire species?"

"Were it a more typical humanoid species such as Vulcan or human, there 
would be no possibility at all. The Keaynnin's unique method of 
reproduction may well be their salvation. Though there are still several 
unknowns to confront, I believe it is not only possible, but probable 
that the Keaynnin will survive as a race."

Merves was silent for a moment, contemplating. "The Vidiians have 
accepted a normal population growth rate for the colony. Since Distor 
Stann is now a member of the colony, he is entitled to such 
consideration also. But should this effort succeed, the Keaynnin may 
well outgrow the colony in a few decades."

"It will likely be a temporary arrangement," T'Pren agreed. "Should 
Distor Stann and his offspring successfully produce a sustainable 
population, a suitable planet can be found to provide them a new home. 
If not in the Delta Quadrant, given the paucity of uninhabited planets, 
then in the Beta Quadrant, where the Keaynnin originated."

It seemed appropriate to eventually resettle the Keaynnin near their 
original home. "I think the Vidiians will accept that reasoning." If 
not, Merves figured Kathryn Janeway could use her considerable charm to 
convince them. He picked up his coffee cup, which was already cold to 
the touch. "I'm extremely happy for Stann. This is very good news, and 
I'd like to sit here and consider all the ramifications, but first you'd 
better tell me the bad news."

"The Romulans were not vaccinated against the New Earth virus."

Merves almost dropped his coffee cup at T'Pren's bald statement. "What?!"

"The Romulans were not--"

"I heard you." Merves set his cup down and shook cold droplets of coffee 
off his hand. So much for reveling in the imminent resurrection of an 
all but extinct species. "You should have told me this immediately!"

"You said you wanted the pleasant news first--"

"Never mind. Just tell me how this happened."

T'Pren didn't flinch at the captain's harsh tone. "When the Romulan 
observers were added to the passenger manifest at the last minute, 
Starfleet sent a directive to the colony's medical team ordering 
vaccination for the Romulans. Apparently the directive was not received, 
or it was overlooked by the medical team during the final preparations. 
Upon departure I verified the accuracy of passenger manifest and receipt 
of all medical records. I regret to say I did not search those records 
to verify if the Romulans had received the ordered vaccinations."

"That wasn't your job, T'Pren," Merves said. "It was the responsibility 
of the colony doctors to verify and update the records with all required 
vaccinations."

"Indeed. However I should have considered the propensity for error among 
non-Vulcans, and I neglected to do so."

Merves wondered if that was the Vulcan antithesis of a left-handed 
compliment. "Placing blame is pointless at the moment," he said. "We 
need to get the Romulans vaccinated."

"Unfortunately it is too late for that, Captain."

For the second time in as many minutes Merves was dumbfounded. "What?"

"They have already been bitten by the insect carriers," T'Pren 
explained. "I am in the process of altering the antidote Voyager's EMH 
produced during that ship's original visit here. I should have a version 
suitable for Romulan physiology in approximately thirty-nine minutes."

Merves took that as a guarantee, give or take a few seconds either way. 
"Very well. As soon as the antidote is ready, meet me in the crew 
transporter room. We'll beam down to the colony to deliver the news to 
the Romulans, along with the antidote." That way they'd have the 
solution to the problem ready to deliver immediately, which might 
counteract the worst of the certain Romulan outcry. Or not. "Dismissed."

As soon as Doctor T'Pren left his office, Merves contacted the bridge. 
"Commander Rees, contact Commander Ayala. Tell him to find the two 
Romulan observers and bring them to the embassy grounds in forty 
minutes. Then come to my ready room."

Rees acknowledged, and Merves rested his head against his chair, 
frowning at the ceiling. It should be a simple matter to vaccinate the 
two Romulans, and Commander Prolak when he returned on Voyager, though 
he suspected the Romulans wouldn't see it that way. Hopefully their 
recent dependence on Starfleet's generosity in getting them here would 
abridge any sense of injury, and thus avoid a serious breach between the 
Federation and the Romulan Empire. As if that didn't happen once every 
few years anyway.

The ready room door slid open and Bryna Rees stepped in. "Message 
received by Commander Ayala, sir," she said before he could ask.

Merves nodded and motioned for Rees to sit. He found her a very capable 
first officer, often able to anticipate his requests before he even 
voiced them, probably because of her Betazoid ancestry. He also 
considered her a good friend, though he was sometimes uncomfortable with 
her ability to read his mood so readily. Not that it required Betazoid 
empathy to read his mood at the moment.

True to form, Commander Rees' brow furrowed with concern as she settled 
herself in the chair T'Pren had recently vacated. "What is it, sir?"

Merves briefed her on what T'Pren had just told him.

^*^*^*^*^

New Earth, late morning:

Luis cocked his wrist the way Jim and his dad had shown him. With a 
quick flip of his arm he let the rock go and watched it sail out over 
the water. It hit the smooth surface at an angle and bounced, one, two, 
three...four...five times! Luis threw his arms in the air and whooped, 
then quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching.

Five times! That was as good as his dad had done in the Lake Baikal 
program a couple of weeks ago. Jim had done better, seven times, though 
Sergei Gagarin had done the best. Eleven times!

Luis picked up another rock, and frowned at it. His father had told him 
not to bother Jim right now, because Jim was dealing with some issues 
and needed to keep his focus. But Luis wasn't a kid, and he didn't need 
to be protected. Jim was moody sometimes, and he had a temper, and he 
liked to drink synthehol. Luis knew synthehol didn't have the same 
detrimental effect as real alcohol, but it had some effect, or some of 
the adults at the labor camp wouldn't have traded just about anything to 
the Cardassians for it, even a night with one of their children--

Luis pushed that memory away. He tried never to think about the camp, 
even though Counselor Novetti told him he shouldn't hold in those 
thoughts or feelings when they wanted to come out. It was all right when 
he was with her, or when he was alone and no one could see or hear him. 
But he didn't want his father and Kajee looking at him with that worried 
look in their eyes, like he was about to lose it or something.

Anyway, Jim was different. Some of the camp prisoners had given up, 
helping the Cardassians keep order, even spying on their fellow 
prisoners in the camp, just to make it easier for themselves. Luis 
didn't think Jim would have done that, not for synthehol or anything.

Luis cocked his wrist and tossed the rock toward the water. The angle 
was too steep this time, and it only bounced once in an ungraceful plop 
before sinking. He shrugged and sat down on the bank, staring at the 
green water for a minute before picking up his PADD. He had promised 
Kajee he'd be back by eleven hundred hours, so he had a little time to 
write the letter he'd promised.

*Hey, JJ:

*Thanks for your letter. It must be fun having two homes now. Utopia 
Planitia would be a cool place to live, with the all the ships and 
stuff. We were only there for a couple of days before we boarded 
Pioneer, but I liked it. Being on Pioneer was pretty cool too, even 
though it was really crowded. And after four months it was hard to find 
any place on the ship you hadn't been. So I'm glad to be on New Earth now.

*I like it here. I feel...free, I guess. There's no war, at least not 
one we're involved in. Dad's told me stories from when he was on 
Voyager, so I know there are conflicts and stuff in the Delta Quadrant 
too. But at least I don't have to hear about the Dominion War all the 
time. It's so far away, it's almost like it didn't really happen, you know?

*School is out right now, since it's summer here. Not that I mind 
school. There are quite a few kids my age. They're nice, though 
sometimes they seem younger than me. There are enough of us to make up a 
Class of '85, like a real secondary school. Dad asked me last night if I 
wanted to work in the biolab we're building here, for an internship. I 
did that on Pioneer as part of my classwork. I do like biology a lot, so 
I probably will. Then I can go out and catalogue all the new species on 
New Earth.

*Oh, there are some really cool animals here! The little monkeys are 
friendly, though most of them live on the other side of the planet. The 
ones that are here chatter A LOT. Last night a Bolian who has a shelter 
a little south of ours was screaming at one of the monkeys because it 
wouldn't shut up! But they have a right to be here, cause they were here 
first. Really, it's their planet.

*The animals I like the best are the octopi. That's what we call them, 
though they have ten arms, and six eyes that go all the way around their 
heads. I went down to the shore with Doctor Tanaka early this morning, 
and we talked to some that were sort of hanging on the rocks, half in 
and half out of the water. They watch you while you talk, and turn their 
heads, looking at you with each eye, like they see something different 
with each one! Their eyes look really smart too, like they understand 
everything you say. Maybe they do.

*I'd love one for a pet, but they're wild animals, so we just study 
them. At home we're going to have a puppy, which is okay too. Really, it 
will be Raul's cause he's so crazy over dogs, but it is a cute puppy, 
all black and silky. Raul's naming him "Dobby." Yeah, pretty stupid, huh?

*What can you expect from kids? Especially little brothers. They're 
pests, but I guess you know that. Caitlyn does sound pretty cute though. 
It must be fun pulling all that stuff out of her mouth (ha, ha). Lajen's 
a nice girl, though she's a lot older than Caitlyn. It would be 
interesting to have a baby around. Lajen wants a little sister bad, so 
maybe my dad and Kajee will have one someday.

*Well, I don't want to just talk about myself. Did you hear from the 
Academy--*

Luis shut off the recorder on his PADD and stared through the trees 
along the river. He was sure he'd heard some twigs breaking, like 
someone or something was moving nearby. He thought it might be one of 
the monkeys. Though they could be heard at night, he'd only seen a 
couple during the day, and from a distance. There was a sharp snap, and 
a much larger figure that broke through the trees.

Luis stared at the Romulan centurion. Tornak, that was his name. Prolak 
was the commander, the friendly one who smiled too much. Subcommander 
Leral looked through people as if they weren't there. Centurion Tornak 
looked angry every time Luis had seen him, and not like the Klingons, 
who liked to look angry for the enjoyment of it.

Right now though Tornak looked different, desperate or something, as he 
lunged toward the river a few meters away. He was sweating a lot. Luis 
remembered Vulcans only sweated under extreme conditions, or when they 
were ill. Maybe Romulans were different.

Tornak splashed water from the shallow river over his face, then threw 
his head back and shook off the excess. His head abruptly stilled, as if 
something had caught his attention, then he swung around and looked at Luis.

Luis felt a small shiver go down his spine. He'd heard a lot of stories 
about Romulans, though he knew most of them were exaggerated. At least 
his father had said so. Tornak's eyes looked dull, the way some of the 
Bajorans in the camp had looked when they were about to fall over from 
exhaustion, and no number of whip lashings would get them up again.

"Are you...okay?" The last word died on Luis's lips. The Romulan turned 
and crashed back through the dense brush. Luis watched him disappear. 
Then he released a pent up breath, and reactivated his PADD.

*Um, sorry, JJ. One of the Romulans here just went by. He startled me. 
They're definitely weird. Creepy even. They look like Vulcans, except in 
the eyes. Vulcan eyes are all calm and quiet. Romulan eyes are glittery 
and hard. Well, Commander Prolak's aren't, but he's even weirder, trying 
to be so friendly and all. Anyway, they're leaving soon.

*I have to get home soon to help Kajee take some stuff to the main 
recycler, so I guess I should go. Write me back and let me know how 
things are going on Utopia Planitia (and in Ireland), and what's 
happening with the Academy. Tell Annie and Patrick "hello" for me, and 
your dad too. Oh, and hug Caitlyn for me. I hear that's good for babies.

*Hasta luego,

*Your friend,

*Luis Ayala

*P.S. I can skip a stone five times! Have you ever tried it? It's fun!*

Luis grinned and shut off his PADD. He wondered if JJ had ever skipped a 
stone, or if he'd be giving it a try once he got this letter. He glanced 
at the river, contemplating whether to try his skill with a few more 
stones, then decided against it. He'd be late getting home if he didn't 
get going. Not that Kajee would be mad. She was pretty cool about 
everything, and not pushy at all. But he tried to keep his promises, 
like his dad did.

Luis had wandered up the river a bit, so he moved along the bank before 
heading back through the trees. The common was just to the east, and he 
could hear the pounding and buzzing of the construction equipment and 
tools. He remembered that Angelo and his crew were finishing the 
infirmary today. Later they would add on the science labs, storage 
buildings, a meeting hall, and the school. The embassy fell in there 
somewhere too, though even mentioning the embassy made Angelo laugh for 
some reason.

What Luis was really waiting for was his family's turn to build their 
house. He would get to help with that. It wouldn't be a big house, like 
Joe and Annie's in Ireland, but it would be big enough for him to have 
his own room--

Luis froze as something moved in front of him. He was nearly out of the 
trees, and near some of the shelters closest to the river. It was 
probably someone from there wandering by. He took a cautious step just 
as the person he didn't want to see appeared in front of him.

Tornak looked even sweatier than before, and he was swaying against the 
tree like he was going to fall over. Luis started to back away. If the 
Romulan was ill, he figured he should go get help. Definitely get help. 
He took another step back, and Tornak's head whipped up.

"You!" Tornak spat out the word. "You are following me!"

"No! I was going home." Luis took yet another step back. "You look kind 
of sick--"

Tornak swayed again, and hissed, "Liar!"

"I'll, uh, I'll go find a doctor." Luis turned to run, but before he 
even got his legs moving a hand grabbed him from behind and jerked him 
around by the collar of his shirt. He was nearly as tall as Tornak but 
the Romulan was far bulkier, and stronger.

"You will not betray me to them!"

"No, I--" Luis winced as Tornak twisted his fist in the shirt collar. 
The Romulan abruptly released him, only to clap his hand around the back 
of Luis's neck.

"Move!"

Luis had no choice but to do so, since Tornak's hand was gripping his 
neck tightly. Tornak pushed him out of the trees, and away from the 
riverbank. Right in front of them were several shelters with boxes of 
shovels and other tools used by the archeological team scattered around. 
They'd be spending most of their time traveling to various sites in the 
area, but this would be their home base.

Luis looked furtively for someone. He liked Kimanji Zaji, and had even 
talked to her and Captain Merves once--or at least listened to them 
discuss some site where the captain's father had worked. There was no 
movement at all. The archeologists were somewhere else.

Tornak pushed Luis past, as if he didn't even notice the shelters. There 
were more shelters beyond those, some Bajoran families Luis recalled, 
but no one was there either, at least not outside. He could hear voices 
in the distance, and noise from the common, but they were all too far 
away to see him. Then he saw two people maybe fifty meters away, walking 
in his direction. He wanted to scream, but Tornak's grip was so tight--

Tornak jerked him forward, and as if he was reading Luis's mind, said, 
"Scream and I'll snap your neck."

Luis didn't scream.

TBC

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 20:14:32 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net 
 

Title: Planet
Author: Julie Evans
Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com
Series: VS7.5 story 39
Codes: others
Rating: PG
Part:  7/9
Date Posted: 2/9/04

^*^*^*^*^

"You are telling me you vaccinated the *canines*, yet neglected to 
consider our well-being? You give us, your *allies*, less thought than 
those odious animals?"

Captain Merves marveled at how Subcommander Leral's voice could be so 
frigid while her lips were pulled back in a snarl. "That's not exactly 
how it was," he said. "As you recall, you didn't inform us of your 
intention to visit New Earth until we arrived here. We didn't expect you 
would be exposed, so we had no reason to vaccinate you."

That was stretching the truth a bit, considering the directive from 
Starfleet had ordered vaccinations for the Romulans. T'Pren's arched 
eyebrow conveyed her disapproval of his prevarication, despite the logic 
of his words.

"And it didn't occur to you until now, *three* days after we came to 
this planet, that we would be exposed?" Leral said, showing no signs of 
thawing.

That Merves couldn't excuse. "No it didn't, and for that I do apologize. 
But we're here now to rectify that oversight. Doctor?"

"My scanner has verified that you have contacted the virus, 
Subcommander." Doctor T'Pren held up a hypospray. "This antidote will 
render the virus inactive in your body."

"Since we still haven't located Centurion Tornak--ah, Commander?" Merves 
looked expectantly at Ayala as he approached.

"Glera hasn't seen him either. I checked the runabout, in case he 
stepped in there unnoticed." Ayala held up a small object. "I did find 
his combadge."

Which was why Tornak hadn't answered Ayala's hails. Better than him 
refusing to answer, Merves supposed. "Subcommander, why would the 
centurion remove his combadge?"

Leral frowned. "I don't know. Maybe he changed his clothes. Earlier this 
morning he said he was feeling too warm. He did look flushed..." Leral's 
eyes widened, and she turned to T'Pren. "I thought you said the virus 
was only dangerous if we *left* the planet!"

T'Pren ignored Leral's accusatory tone. "That was true for the two 
humans from the original Voyager. Romulan physiology may react 
differently--" she glanced at her medical scanner "--though you show no 
outward symptoms." She turned to Captain Merves. "I cannot verify that 
is the case for Tornak until I can examine him."

"When were you and Tornak first bitten?" Merves asked Leral.

"He was bitten the first day. I was not bitten until yesterday."

"Yet you didn't request the repellent until this morning?" Merves asked.

"I did not feel it was necessary! We do not wilt at minor discomfort as 
you humans do, and it was only today that he began to act strangely."

Terrific. Tornak might really be ill. How ill, Merves didn't want to 
think. He looked at T'Pren. "The antidote will still cure him?"

"I believe so," T'Pren said. "However I suggest we locate Tornak quickly."

"The colony's scanning system is only semi-functional, Captain," Ayala 
said. "It is still subject to random interference."

Merves nodded grimly and tapped his combadge. "Merves to Pioneer."

^*^*^*^*^

Jim Morrow swallowed the last of the water in his canteen as he walked 
back toward the common--or what would be the common once the buildings 
were in place and the landscaping completed. The infirmary building, the 
first to be raised, would be finished this afternoon. It wasn't a 
complicated job thanks to the wonders of prefab hardwood and duraplast, 
but it was a lot of physical work. His job on Hellstone had been hard 
work also--backbreaking, in fact--but his only motivation there had been 
to make enough money to pay for a bed each night, and to buy the bourbon 
that let him eventually fall asleep in it. Or, more correctly, pass out 
in it, if he didn't land on the floor first.

Jim clipped his canteen to his belt, and stretched his back, feeling the 
dull ache of muscles he hadn't used much during the four months on 
Pioneer. It was an oddly pleasant sort of ache, the affirmation of 
meaningful work. He supposed that was the difference. Even if his 
contribution was only manual labor, he was building something of 
significance to him, and to his future.

He wished now that he had attended more of the planning meetings. He 
didn't have an architect's sense of space and structure like Angelo did, 
or his skill at carpentry. But he could learn pretty much anything, if 
he had the interest.

That was the catch, the thing that had eluded him since he'd been 
discharged from Starfleet. Real interest in anything, except himself. 
Angelo, Noah, even Marla--they had all moved on, and he hadn't. 
Especially not emotionally.

He'd been thinking about that, staring at the river flowing sluggishly 
by while he ate his replicated cheeseburger.

"Keep going!"

The sharp words drew Jim's attention to a grouping of several shelters, 
where Melia Gent and her family had settled. She had some sort of 
Betazoid government background, which perhaps explained her willingness 
to take on the position of colony jurisdictional liaison, and to locate 
her residence right next door to the embassy. Few others wanted to be 
within shouting range of Ambassador Diaza--

Jim stopped. The figure moving past the furthest shelter wasn't Melia, 
or anyone in her family. It was Tornak, the Romulan centurion, probably 
on his way back to the embassy grounds. But he was walking oddly, like 
he was off-balance.

And he wasn't alone. A slighter figure was on the other side of him, so 
close Tornak clearly had an arm around the person's--the boy's 
shoulders. Jim could tell it was a boy from the slender, not quite 
filled-out build. As Tornak moved he caught a glance of the boy's face--

What the hell? Why was Luis with Tornak? Jim started to shout, but his 
mouth fell open instead as he realized that Tornak didn't have his arm 
around Luis's shoulders; he had his beefy hand clamped around the back 
of the boy's neck in a chokehold!

"Excuse me..."

The second voice came from the front of one of the shelters, and Tornak 
twisted abruptly, almost jerking Luis off his feet. Though Jim was also 
in his line of view, he snarled at the Betazoid male, who was closer. 
"Back away!"

Tornak had no weapon--none were allowed among the colonists, excluding 
the security team--but his enraged voice was enough to startle the 
Betazoid, who backed up, eyes wide with alarm. Tornak immediately 
prodded Luis on, obviously not worried that there were witnesses to his 
abduction of the boy.

Jim had gotten a good glimpse of Tornak's expression before he dragged 
Luis forward, and he had an idea why. The Romulan's eyes had burned with 
unnatural intensity. Illness, or a drug-induced madness--whatever it 
was, Tornak wasn't rational.

That realization pulled Jim out of his stunned state. Though it had been 
mere seconds, he silently cursed his slow response. "Notify security!" 
he shouted to Melia's brother as he sprinted after Tornak.

^*^*^*^*^

//We are now tracking the other Romulan lifesign. He is about sixty 
meters from your position, bearing twelve degrees southeast, headed 
straight for you.//

Ayala turned immediately in that direction, his hand resting on his 
phaser. The Romulan runabout was in his direct line of sight, some 
forty-five meters away.

//Tornak's vital signs are outside the normal range for Romulans. Blood 
pressure is below normal, and temperature is several degrees higher than 
normal--//

Ayala listened to the first officer's report absently as he took several 
steps forward. He expected Tornak would be coming from behind the 
runabout any second--

//Captain, there is also a human lifesign in close proximity to the 
Romulan lifesign. That person is in physical contact with Tornak--//

Ayala hand tightened on his phaser. He didn't know who might be with 
Tornak, but he had to expect any possibility. That person might be 
helping the ill Romulan return to the embassy, or might be an unwilling 
companion--

Tornak stumbled from behind the runabout, pushing a smaller figure next 
to him. They both looked up--

Luis! Ayala pulled out his phaser as Captain Merves shouted, "Centurion 
Tornak! We know you're feeling ill. We have a cure that will--"

"Stay away from me!"

Ayala was already running toward the runabout, phaser in hand, but 
Tornak jumped back behind the small craft before he could focus his aim. 
He heard the sound of hydraulics and knew Tornak was opening the aft 
hatch. He wasn't about to let Tornak take Luis into the runabout!

"Tornak, I order you to stop immediately!"

If Tornak heard Leral's command he didn't respond. Ayala came abreast of 
the shuttle's bow just in time to see someone else run toward the back 
of the runabout. He heard a grunt and a responding shout, and came 
within view as Jim Morrow receive a hard kick to the chin from Tornak's 
booted foot. Jim fell to the ground and Ayala fired a shot toward the 
aft hatch as Tornak disappeared inside. Ayala fired again while Jim 
struggled to his feet and slapped his hands on the aft control panel, 
frantically punching codes. The hatch door stopped, leaving a mere two 
or so centimeters of open space. Ayala aimed the phaser and shot low 
into that space. A second later the door moved again, and the space 
disappeared as the hatch closed completely.

However ill he was, Tornak had overridden the manual hatch controls with 
alacrity. And he had forced Luis into the runabout with him.

Ayala dropped his hand, his now useless phaser pointing toward the 
ground. He'd seen his son's face when Merves shouted to Tornak. Luis had 
looked dazed, his gaze more vacant than terrified. Ayala had brought his 
son here to get him away from his memories of Gorshet III, and of the 
horrors no child should ever experience. He'd promised Luis a safe haven 
here, promised to protect him, and now--

"We'll get him out, Michael."

Ayala looked blankly at Jim, whose chin was bloody from the impact of 
Tornak's boot. Jim swiped ineffectually at his face, and wiped his hand 
on his shirt. Then he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled under 
the runabout, leaving Ayala staring after him in bewilderment.

"I don't want Tornak getting that thing off the ground," Merves shouted 
to Harriman and three security officers who had just beamed down, and 
were taking up positions surrounding the runabout.

The captain's voice was like a splash of cold water in Ayala's face. He 
realized he'd completely lost focus on his job, terrified for his son 
even if his son wasn't terrified for himself.

"Morrow!" Ayala barked, crouching down. Jim had already shimmied out of 
sight, no doubt headed for storage section access panel. Romulan 
runabouts were similar to the Federation version--copied from them in 
fact. The chances of Jim opening that panel without Tornak noticing, and 
likely blasting Jim out of existence if the Romulan's sanity was as 
tenuous as it seemed, was virtually nil.

A hand fell on Ayala's shoulder, and he turned to face Merves. "Jim 
Morrow is trying to open the storage section panel."

"A rash move, but Mister Morrow has always struck me as a man given to 
impulsive acts. We'll cover him as well as we can, but our first 
priority is Luis." The implacable look in Merves's eyes assured Ayala of 
that priority. "Commander Rees?"

//We're recalibrating Pioneer's transporters, sir. Give us about one 
minute.//

"No more," Merves responded sharply.

Transporters on colony ships like Pioneer didn't automatically 
recalibrate from open to closed space, or from signal to biosign 
detection, but a minute seemed hideously long to Ayala. And the low 
priority of a transporter station for the colony now seemed like a 
serious mistake in judgment.

//A second security team is assembled in the crew transporter room.//

Merves and Ayala remained tensely silent while the remaining seconds 
ticked by.

^*^*^*^*^

Tornak shoved Luis roughly into the copilot's chair, then took the 
pilot's seat. Luis remained immobile, only dimly aware of what was 
happening. His neck hurt where Tornak had squeezed him so tightly. He 
reached up instinctively to rub the area, his action slow, as if he was 
moving in a deep fog.

//Centurion Tornak, this is Subcommander Leral. Open the runabout main 
door immediately!//

"Never did like her," Tornak snarled. He pressed several controls, then 
reached under the console and produced a phaser. "Now she wants to help 
them destroy me! Like you do!"

Luis flinched at Tornak's menacing growl, and the feral look in his 
eyes. The fog dissipated and cold terror washed through him. It was just 
like always. The Cardassian leader would appear soon, his yellow eyes 
gleaming coldly in the dim light, and someone would suffer. A beating, a 
rape, or an electrical shock from one of the stun sticks--

The taste of bile rose in his throat, choking him. He needed to hide, to 
make himself as small as possible so he wouldn't be noticed. His eyes 
scanned the shuttle frantically, even while he shrank further into his 
seat. He had to get away before those cold, dry hands grabbed him, 
before he felt the searing jolt shoot through his limbs, the horrible 
jerk of his body as it spasmed, and he voided himself while the 
Cardassians stood over him and laughed--

*No*! Luis shut his eyes, and clenched his hands so tight his nails 
broke the skin on his palms. *No. No, no*, he chanted silently. *Forget 
about that*! This wasn't Gorshet III. He wasn't helpless, and he wasn't 
alone. He'd seen Jim trying to grab Tornak's leg. And the phaser beam 
that had cut through the hatch opening, barely missing Tornak's head.

That had been his father! Luis was certain he'd spotted his father just 
before Tornak had forced him back behind the runabout. And Captain 
Merves. They were out there now, with Jim. And Kajee, Angelo, 
Celes--everyone in the colony--they would help him. They wouldn't turn 
away and pretend not to see.

//Commander Leral to Subcommander Tornak. I suggest you answer me if you 
don't want to spend the rest of your career cleaning out warp manifolds 
with a nail file!//

Tornak shut off the comm with his fist, and sparks flew. He squinted and 
shook his head, as if trying to clear his vision. Rivulets of sweat ran 
down his face as he tried to focus on the controls in front of him. 
Keeping a furtive eye on Tornak, Luis unclenched his hands slowly, 
barely noticing the sting of his palms. A strange sort of calm swept 
over him. *He wasn't alone, and he wasn't helpless*. And he wasn't afraid.

Despite the situation he felt a rush of exhilaration. *He wasn't 
afraid*. And he wasn't going to be afraid like that. Not ever again.

^*^*^*^*^

//No lock, Captain. Tornak engaged the hull shielding before we could 
get him.//

"Open that runabout door immediately, Tornak, or I'll have you gutted 
and your entrails fed to the canines!"

Subcommander Leral's idle threats--at least Merves assumed they were 
idle--were clearly having no effect on Tornak. He turned to Ayala and 
Harriman. "Aim for the engines and take out those shields." Ayala's 
quick nod and hand signal to the rest of the security team assured 
Merves he was fully in control, despite the fear for his son he couldn't 
quite hide.

"You are not going to damage that runabout!"

"We're going to do whatever it takes to get Luis Ayala out of there," 
Merves told Leral.

"The Romulan Empire will not take responsibility for this incident. It 
is Starfleet who neglected to protect us, and who allowed Centurion 
Tornak to become infected by the virus. It is the Federation who will be 
held accountable for his insane behavior, as well as the life of that boy."

Merves was glad Ayala was too busy giving orders to his team to hear 
Leral. "That *boy* will be fine. And so will you, as long as you stay 
out of my way."

His unveiled threat startled Leral, and Merves took the opportunity to 
walk away. He heard Leral sputter, but figured Administrator Glera could 
deal with the Romulan subcommander for awhile. He focused his attention 
on the security teams efforts. Their phaser beams bounced off the hull 
shielding, showering flashes of light across the boundary of the force 
field. Eventually they would break through, and Commander Rees would 
beam Tornak aboard Pioneer. Unless Jim Morrow got in first, and either 
resolved the situation or, quite possibly, made it worse.

TBC

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 20:14:54 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net 
 

Title: Planet
Author: Julie Evans
Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com
Series: VS7.5 story 39
Codes: others
Rating: PG
Part:  8/9
Date Posted: 2/9/04

^*^*^*^*^

Tornak muttered several Romulan curses as he attempted to engage the 
engines. The low hum of phaser fire could be heard coming from outside. 
Tornak ignored it, but Luis listened intently. So intently he heard 
another, fainter sound, like metal scraping against metal. It was coming 
from somewhere behind him, and Luis started to turn slowly and look, but 
Tornak leapt up first.

The metal sound grew slightly louder for a moment, and Tornak cursed. He 
aimed his phaser at Luis, waving it warningly. Luis tensed, not with 
fear but with caution. He met Tornak's intimidating gaze but remained 
completely still.

Satisfied, Tornak moved aft, muttering curses as he went. Luis rose as 
quietly as possible, keeping his attention on Tornak, but the Romulan's 
attention was focused elsewhere. He took a careful step, looking around 
for a weapon.

Tornak let out a triumphant shout, and Luis used the moment to grab a 
metal spanner that lay abandoned under the pilot's seat. He moved 
quickly and spun around, expecting Tornak to have heard and turned on 
him. Instead Tornak was aiming his phaser at the deck, behind the 
partition that separated the storage area from the main cabin. There was 
an access panel in the storage deckplate somewhere--

"Rokh'tal!"

Whatever that word meant, Tornak was about to fire at someone trying to 
get into the storage area. Luis shouted and ran toward Tornak. The 
centurion turned toward Luis, bringing his phaser up, but his reaction 
was too slow. Luis barreled into him, swinging the spanner. It caught 
Tornak on the temple, and he fell backward, his phaser flying across the 
deck.

Luis fell to his knees next to the crumpled figure. He raised the 
spanner again, ready to hit Tornak if he moved, ready to protect the 
rest of the prisoners, to keep them from being tortured just for 
sadistic pleasure--

"Luis."

Luis blinked, and looked at Jim, who had pulled himself up halfway 
through the hatch. Jim's hard stare was intent, almost mesmerizing. Luis 
slowly lowered the spanner and looked down at the unconscious Romulan.

"Let's call in the cavalry," Jim said as he pulled himself all the way 
onto the deck.

"Tornak disabled the comm system," Luis said, setting the spanner on the 
floor, a good distance from Tornak's unconscious body, just in case.

"No problem." Jim strode to the front console and with a couple of taps 
deactivated the force field. "I think that will get the message across. 
Let's get out of here, and leave Tornak to the doctors."

Luis nodded and joined Jim at the main door. Jim pressed the door 
release, then pushed Luis behind him as the door opened, walking out 
first. From behind Jim, Luis could see the array of phasers aimed in 
their direction, though they were all lowered almost immediately.

"Luis and I are fine," Jim said. "Tornak is inside, unconscious."

Two security officers passed by them, jumping into the runabout. Luis 
paid no attention to them, because following right behind was his 
father. He felt a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, and glanced at Jim. 
Jim smiled, then stepped away.

"Luis. Are you okay?"

Luis nodded. His throat felt tight, not from fear, but from relief, and 
regret at his father's anxious expression. He had a sudden urge to hug 
his father, to hold on as tight as he could, and he suppressed it with 
effort. He wasn't a little kid anymore. "I'm fine, Dad."

His father crossed the small distance between them before Luis could 
even blink, and engulfed him in a bear hug. Luis hugged him back, 
forgetting for a moment anything except that his father was here, 
holding him as if he would never let go, and it felt as if it had always 
been that way. Maybe hugging was okay, even if you weren't a little kid.

After his dad let him go, Lieutenant Harriman hugged him before she went 
into the runabout. While Captain Merves and Doctor T'Pren beamed to 
Pioneer to deal with Tornak--who would be fine, Doctor T'Pren told the 
captain, which suited Luis though he hadn't liked Tornak even before 
he'd become sick and crazy--Kajee came running with Raul and Lajen. They 
all hugged him. When they walked back to their shelter soon after, 
Angelo and Celes were there, and they both hugged him. Then Doctor 
Tanaka and several others from the Sciences staff stopped by, and most 
of them hugged him.

Later, several kids from his classes stopped by to see him, two or three 
at a time, and they wanted to know all about his adventure. Even K'Lerg, 
the surly Klingon boy from his geometry class, was impressed by the 
details. And several of the girls hugged him, including Isobel 
MacKenzie, maybe the smartest and prettiest girl on New Earth. No, 
*definitely* the smartest and prettiest girl on New Earth. Luis felt 
like he was in a fog for quite awhile after they left, but it was a 
pleasant, dreamy one.

Yep, Luis thought as he drifted off to sleep later that night, hugging 
was actually pretty okay.

^*^*^*^*^

Day Four, Pioneer, midday:

Michael Ayala walked onto the bridge of Pioneer. After four days on New 
Earth the ship already felt alien to him, as if it didn't belong to 
him--or he to it--anymore. He was just a visitor here now, which suited 
him. Commander Rees sat in the command chair, and she acknowledged his 
presence with a smile and a wave of her hand toward the ready room. She 
was one of only three officers on the bridge, which seemed as 
cavernously empty as the rest of the ship.

Michael mouthed a quick "thanks" to Rees and she went back to studying 
the data on her console while he strode to the ready room door. At the 
captain's invitation he entered, and found Captain Merves with coffee 
cup in hand and a dozen printouts spread across his desk.

"Here is my report on the security incident yesterday," Michael said, 
though "incident" seemed a pale word to his mind.

Merves accepted the proffered PADD, and waved toward a chair. "Have a seat."

Michael sat, while Merves glanced at the report. "Captain, I owe you an 
apology for yesterday--"

"You have nothing to apologize for, Michael," Merves interrupted. "You 
couldn't have foreseen what happened."

"Maybe not, sir, but if I'd located Tornak more quickly, his actions 
would have been curtailed."

"Unfortunately, putting locator collars on the Romulans wasn't an 
option," Merves said dryly. "Nor could we force them to wear their 
combadges. They're free citizens, after all."

"Yes, but--"

"Michael." Merves held up a hand. "In retrospect, there were several 
things we could have done differently, and certainly more effectively, 
had we been aware of Tornak's unstable condition. The only real error 
was the initial one that set all this in motion. And that appears to 
have been a case of mis-delivery to the wrong file in the computer 
database. It may be a clich�, but what matters is that all's well that 
ends well. Want something to drink?"

It took Michael a second to react to Merves' nonsequitir. "Uh, no, thanks."

Merves nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "Speaking of well, Doctor 
T'Pren will be releasing Tornak this afternoon. He's fully recovered."

"That's good," Michael said. Though he knew Tornak hadn't been 
responsible for his actions, he still couldn't find it in his heart to 
care much about the Romulan centurion's well being. But he was glad for 
Luis's sake. "That means he will be returning to New Earth?"

"Actually, no. Leral has been ordered to return the runabout to 
Pioneer's shuttlebay, where she and Tornak are to await Commander 
Prolak's return. It seems he was quite displeased when he learned about 
the incident."

"That the Federation ultimately caused," Michael said. He wasn't sorry 
Tornak would remain on Pioneer, but it seemed an odd response. Though 
perhaps not for Romulans.

"The Romulans are a different breed," Merves said, mirroring Michael's 
thoughts. "He was more put out by Tornak's inability to conquer the 
virus's effect, and Leral's 'ineffective' leadership, than by the 
vaccination oversight on our part. Apparently the concept of weakness, 
or of an inability to overcome an affliction without Federation 
assistance, is anathema to the Romulans. Or, to Prolak, anyway.

"By the way, Prolak also told Captain Janeway that they would be leaving 
immediately upon his return to pursue their original mission. They'll 
leave their embassy office unstaffed but available for future use, 
though I'm betting they won't ever take up actual residence."

Whatever the Romulans original plan, Prolak must had gotten enough 
insight into the Federation's intentions here by tagging along on 
Voyager, Michael supposed. "I have to admit I'm glad they won't be back 
on the surface," he said. And that his son wouldn't see Tornak again, 
even though Luis was acting surprisingly sanguine about the whole thing.

"So, how is Luis?" Merves asked.

"He's fine," Michael said. "Better than fine, actually." He shook his 
head, still amazed by Luis's reaction. He'd been a little shaky right 
after, but an hour later it was as if nothing had happened. "I'd have 
done anything to prevent this, yet Luis seems to have come out of it 
more...confident in himself."

Merves nodded. "He faced down his fear. He's realized it can't destroy 
him unless he lets it. Most people are a lot older when they figure that 
out, if they ever do. The price has been high, but what Luis has learned 
about himself may serve him well."

Though Michael would always regret that Luis had been robbed of the 
secure childhood he'd deserved, he recognized the truth in Merves's 
words. And he'd seen the truth in his son's eyes last night. It was as 
if a veil had been lifted, and the real Luis, the happy, confident boy 
he'd left behind, had returned, now in the form of a young man.

"I guess Morrow deserves part of the credit, since his presence was 
probably the impetus for Luis to act," Merves said. "Though if he were 
under my command, he'd still be cooling his heels in the brig right now 
for pulling that stunt."

Michael's mouth quirked. "I'll tell him that."

Merves smiled. "I doubt he'll care. Just as well he's no longer in 
Starfleet. He's got the independent-minded nature suited to colony life, 
if he takes his opportunity on New Earth seriously."

"I think he just might," Michael said. Jim had been genuinely content 
last night, and not just because of Luis's safe return, either. It was 
the most comfortable he'd seen Jim even among friends, as if he really 
wanted to be where he was, and who he was.

"That's good to hear," Merves said. He set the PADD on his desk. "Right 
now I have several reports to finish before Captain Janeway's arrival. 
I'm eager to know more about her meetings with the Vidiians, and I know 
she'll also be eager to see what's been accomplished on New Earth so far."

"I'll be happy to show her around," Michael said. He knew Captain 
Janeway, Chakotay, Tom and B'Elanna, Neelix, and the half-dozen others 
from the original Voyager crew were eager to see the colony. And he 
could show them what they would be missing galavanting around on a 
starship, even if they'd be coming back to New Earth from time to time.

"I do know you'll make the most of your opportunity on New Earth, 
Michael," Merves said. "But if you ever want your old job back, it will 
be here. Though I might have to fight Captain Janeway, in that case."

"I appreciate the accolade," Michael said. "But I'm not ever going to be 
away from my family again. I'm afraid I'm a planetbound man now, sir."

Captain Merves nodded, his gaze understanding. "I'd say you're a lucky 
man, Mister Ayala."

"Yes, I am," Michael agreed. "Yes, I am."

Day Four, New Earth, evening:

"Fetch, Dobby!"

The black lab puppy gamboled across the grass as he chased the stick 
Raul had thrown. When he reached it, he pounced at it with all his puppy 
might, and rolled right past it, a black ball of fur and gangly legs 
sticking out everywhere. He quickly righted himself and turned back to 
the stick, yapping victoriously as he grabbed it with his sharp teeth. 
Then he settled down in the grass and began chewing.

"Dobby, when I say 'fetch' you're supposed to bring it back to me!"

Jim patted Raul's shoulder. "He's young. He'll learn."

"I guess he can just play with it right now," Raul said, while Dobby 
gnawed at the stick as if it was a steak bone. "Jim, you don't think his 
name is silly, do you?"

"Nah. He looks like a Dobby to me."

"It's a very good name, I think."

Raul smiled broadly at his father, pleased by the praise. Kajee sat 
beside Michael on one side of the firepit, settled on a soft blanket 
Kajee had brought with her, while Celes and Angelo sat across from them. 
It was dusk on a warm summer evening, where, on any planet in the 
galaxy, the best place to be was outside. The air was redolent of meadow 
grass, sea salt, and a myriad of foods recently cooked on barbecues and 
in open firepits. The breeze carried a welcome hint of coolness, and the 
argon glowlamps spaced throughout the colony site began to blink on, 
their warm yellow light spilling over the shelters and illuminating the 
first permanent structures around the common square.

Jim shared the edge of Celes and Angelo's blanket. He was pleasantly 
full from the Bajoran meal Kajee had prepared for everyone. For now they 
were taking turns preparing the group meal. Once permanent housing was 
erected, many would make their meals in their homes, with both fresh and 
replicated ingredients, but Jim figured on enjoying the communal 
atmosphere for awhile. Perhaps even through the summer.

"I think I'll get a beer," Angelo said. "Anyone else want anything?"

"You can bring me some hot tea," Celes said, and Angelo smiled at her as 
if he'd bring her not only tea but anything else she might ever ask for.

"I'm fine," Michael said, as Kajee also shook her head.

"I'll take a coke," Jim said.

"Just coke?" Angelo asked, surprised.

"Something wrong with that?"

Angelo shook his head. "Can't stand that old drink myself, but if that's 
what you want."

Angelo walked toward his shelter, giving Jim a searching look, then a 
brief smile. Jim sensed the others watching him and kept his gaze on 
Raul and Dobby. He didn't see any reason to voice what they were 
thinking. So he was giving up synthehol for a while. He just didn't have 
a taste for it right now.

"Mom! I'm back!"

Lajen was running, which was her regular mode of locomotion, with 
someone trailing further behind her. "Tamil's dad made shish-ka-bobs for 
dinner. They were great! Tamil's coming over tomorrow night for dinner, 
if that's okay? Where's Angelo?"

"I'm glad you had fun. That's fine. And Angelo is...hi, Neusha. Please 
join us."

Jim had been watching Kajee's remarkably facile response to her 
daughter's random conversation, but he turned to see that Neusha Patel 
was the person lagging behind Lajen.

"Neusha!"

"Hi, Angelo." Neusha smiled at him as he rejoined the group, handing Jim 
his coke. "I just brought the blueprints for the meeting hall 
foundation, so you can check it before we start tomorrow morning."

Angelo took the blueprints with his free hand, and set them on the 
ground as he settled down again next to Celes. "Thanks. Sit down and 
join us. I was telling Michael a bit earlier about the community pool."

"Which is a fine idea," Michael said. "But I think we need a good sport 
field first."

Kajee patted the blanket beside her, and Neusha sat down, looking around 
the group with a quick smile of greeting. Her eyes met Jim's last, and 
her was glance cursory at best before she returned her attention to Michael.

"We already have enough recruits to make up half a dozen soccer teams, 
and I've been hearing a lot of interest in baseball, too."

"Baseball's a tired old game," Angelo said. "Soccer's okay, but we need 
some water polo teams."

Michael shook his head. "I just never got the attraction of water polo. 
All that boring swimming back and forth."

"Boring?" Angelo looked at Michael askance. "It's a fast, action-packed 
game. It's baseball where you spend ninety percent of your time standing 
around. Talk about boring."

"Baseball is a classic sport," Michael said. "It's all about grace and 
finesse, not brute strength, like water polo."

"I have to disagree with you, Michael," Neusha put in. "Water polo 
certainly takes strength and stamina, but there's a lot of grace 
involved too. I got through Mehran University on a water polo 
scholarship. We won the Pan-Asia regional three times."

TBC

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 20:15:18 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Christina fmlyhntr@sunset.net 
 

Title: Planet
Author: Julie Evans
Contact:season7_5@yahoo.com
Series: VS7.5 story 39
Codes: others
Rating: PG
Part:  9/9
Date Posted: 2/9/04

"Aha, so you'd have a ringer on your team!" Michael accused Angelo.

"Or on your team," Neusha told him, winking.

"You should think about it, Michael," Jim said. He grinned slyly at 
Neusha. "We are talking about a sport that involves sleek, body-hugging 
swimsuits versus a sport of loose jerseys and cleats."

Neusha raised a supercilious eyebrow, though there was a hint of 
amusement in her eyes. At least Jim thought he saw one. Neusha Patel had 
been one of the few who hadn't found his flirtatious manner charming on 
Pioneer. Quite the opposite in fact, though she didn't seem inclined to 
tell him off tonight.

"Three to one against, Michael!" Angelo chortled triumphantly.

"I'm thinking this colony can accommodate several sports," Kajee said. 
"Maybe water polo *and* baseball."

"Water polo? Does someone actually like that sport?"

Angelo rolled his eyes as Melia Gend approached. "Quit making fun of 
water polo!"

Melia laughed at his exaggerated protest. "Sorry. Stann and I are just 
taking a walk, and letting everyone know that there's going to be a 
party in the common tomorrow night to officially commemorate the 
founding of New Earth colony."

Stann stood a bit behind Melia, and he smiled shyly at the group. Though 
he'd been on Pioneer for two months he still had an air of timidity 
about him. Jim had decided it was just be his natural disposition.

"It sounds like fun," Michael said. "Should we bring anything?"

"I don't think so. We haven't figured out all the details yet--okay, we 
haven't figured out *any* of the details--" she flashed a wry smile 
"--but we'll let you know more in the morning."

"I'm afraid it will be on dirt," Celes said. "We won't have the 
landscaping ready to set down for another couple of days."

"I'm sure we'll manage," Kajee said. "If you need help putting 
everything together, I'll be happy to contribute, Melia."

"As will I," Neusha said.

Melia looked grateful, though Celes spoke before she could. "Stann, we 
heard your good news. We're so happy for you."

Stann looked flustered. "Thank you," he said. "It is...an unusual 
situation. But nothing that has happened to me recently has been usual."

"Well, it's wonderful," Angelo said as Stann's voice faded a bit. "We're 
all looking forward to the arrival of your little ones. And we'll be 
happy to help any way we can."

"Thank you again," Stann said. "It will be another week before Doctor 
Ibrahim is ready to begin the procedure. But in a few of your months the 
babies will arrive, and I'm sure I will need much help. I don't know yet 
if I will be a good father."

"Of course you will," Michael said. "We all wonder that at first. It's 
natural for you to be nervous, but when you hold your babies in your 
arms, all those doubts will disappear, believe me. Right, Angelo?"

Angelo grinned. "I hope so." He looked at Stann. "I'm going to be a 
father also." He put his arm around his wife. "Celes and I will be 
having a baby in about seven months."

Stann's face broke into as big a smile as Jim had seen from the little 
guy. "But that is wonderful!"

"We think so too," Angelo said. His expression was beatific, but it had 
been that way all night, since he and Celes had revealed their news just 
before dinner.

"Our babies will be raised together," Stann said, then immediately 
looked distressed, as if he'd uttered a faux pas. "I mean, if that is 
all right with you."

"Absolutely," Angelo said. "And before you know it, there will be other 
babies coming along. It's one of those things we humans do well."

Celes elbowed her husband in the side, only slightly puncturing his 
self-satisfied grin. Stann looked pleased too, and Jim noticed for the 
first time that the little guy's color was...Well, it was gray, but a 
more shimmery, vibrant silvery-gray, as if he was glowing with health.

Jim realized with a start that Stann was *happy*. Like Celes, he was 
radiating a definite glow of contentment. At least for the moment--and 
probably for longer moments as time went by--he could think of something 
besides the devastating loss he'd experienced.

"We've got to spread more invitations around," Melia said, putting a 
gentle hand on Stann's arm. "We'll see you tomorrow. Congratulations, 
Celes, Angelo."

Dobby chose that moment to bound into the middle of the group, yapping. 
Stann jumped, startled, then remained perfectly still as Dobby sniffed him.

"It's okay, Stann," Raul said. "He likes you."

Stann nodded, not looking too certain. "He, er, seems to be a fine 
animal, Raul."

"He is," Raul said. "He loves to play, but when he gets big I'll teach 
him to protect your babies if anything ever tries to hurt them."

Dobby was chasing his tail at the moment, giving zero impression of 
fierce protectiveness, but Stann looked touched. He patted Raul gently 
on the shoulder. "Thank you."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," a warm voice said, and Dobby 
bounded straight for the newcomer.

Kimanji Zaji, dressed in robe of bright oranges and tawny yellows and 
browns, greeted everyone, including Melia and Stann before they 
departed. She smiled indulgently at Dobby as he sniffed her robe, then 
finally looked at Jim. "I know it may be a bit early, but I am wondering 
if you are taking commissions yet."

Jim's brow furrowed. "Commissions?"

"Yes. For the wall murals you're going to be painting. I hear your 
designs are quite distinctive. I'd love to have one for the 
archeologist's common room."

There was total and utter silence when Kimanji finished speaking. Jim 
could hear the clicking noise of the stick insects nearby, and laughter 
somewhere in the distance. He could also feel everyone's eyes on him, 
and he knew if he looked most of their mouths would be hanging open.

"Paint?" Michael's voice was bemused. "You *paint*, Jim?"

"It's--it was a hobby," Jim said. "I really haven't painted in quite a 
while." A long while. Not since those early days on the Equinox, before 
the ship had been flung into the Delta quadrant. He rarely thought about 
it anymore--no, that wasn't true. He thought of it occasionally, but as 
part of his "before" life. Before Equinox, and everything that came after.

"Angelo?"

Celes put a hand on Angelo's arm. He was staring at Jim, his eyes wide, 
as if he'd come to an amazing realization. "I'd forgotten," he said. 
"I'd *completely* forgotten."

"Forgotten what?" Celes asked, sounding vaguely alarmed.

"The mural, in your quarters, Jim," Angelo said. He looked at Celes. 
"Jim painted it, during the first month we were on Equinox. He wanted 
something to counteract the 'Starfleet drab.' And it did. It was 
amazing, with all these swirls of color and light..." He turned to Jim 
again. "It was such beautiful work. I don't know how I could have 
forgotten so completely."

Jim shrugged. "I guess we all forgot a lot of things, later. And since 
my first quarters were rendered uninhabitable, along with half the ship, 
it's not so surprising."

"I see my request was premature."

Jim had almost forgotten Kimanji's presence, but now he looked at her 
curiously. "How did you know..."

Kimanji glanced at Raul, who was now holding Dobby. Raul gave Jim a wan 
smile. "Remember, that morning you said you'd paint a mural in my 
bedroom when we got to New Earth?"

Jim vaguely remembered that morning. He'd been half-asleep, after 
staying very late in the aft lounge the night before. Raul had been 
chattering about his art class. Jim had said something about painting 
murals once upon a time, and it had gone from there. It had seemed a 
throwaway conversation at the time. "I said 'maybe.' And I said it was 
between you and me."

Raul looked sheepish. "I forgot. I'm sorry." He bent his head and hugged 
the wriggling Dobby. "And when adults say 'maybe' it always means 'yes.'"

There were several chuckles at Raul's slightly defiant addendum, though 
Michael gave him a reproving look. "Jim, I'll talk to you about this 
later," Kimanji said. Her lips twitched. "Unless you want to give me a 
'maybe' too."

"Maybe," Jim said softly. "I will think about it, Kimanji."

"Good enough," Kimanji said. "Goodnight, all."

Jim watched Kimanji stride away, her robe flowing regally behind her, 
wondering if he was really thinking about painting again. Mentioning his 
past work to Raul had been a spontaneous response--or maybe it hadn't. 
But it had been so long--

"Hmm. So there are actual depths to you, are there, Morrow?" Neusha 
asked dryly.

Jim met her curious gaze and gave her a roguish smile. "Depends on how 
far you're willing to dig."

"Excuse me."

It was like the Starfleet Command Central Transport Station here 
tonight, Jim thought, though with no rancor, as two young boys 
approached. They looked solemnly at Michael. "Hello, Mister Ayala. Is 
Luis here?"

Luis, as if on cue, popped his head out of the Ayala shelter. He'd gone 
in there after dinner, but Jim had the feeling he'd been seeking the 
privacy a normal teenager craved, rather than hiding out. Now he walked 
over to greet the boys. "Hi, Tiran. Hi, Dirk."

"Hey, Luis," the taller, blond boy said. "Do you want to come down to 
the bluff? We're having a bonfire."

Luis glanced at his father. "Who's down there?" Michael asked the two boys.

"There's a bunch of people on the beach, Mister Ayala. The MacKenzies 
are there, and Tiran's family, too. They can see us up on the bluff."

Jim didn't miss how Luis's eyes lit up at the name MacKenzie. Michael 
glanced at Kajee, who nodded. "I guess it's fine then," Michael said. 
"Behave yourselves, and be home by eleven, Luis."

Luis rolled his eyes. "Dad..."

"Eleven."

Luis shrugged, and the two boys gave him commiserating smiles. The 
things you had to keep the parents happy. "Fine," Luis said. "See ya later."

"Can I go?" Raul asked.

Luis looked at his father beseechingly. "Stay here tonight, Raul," 
Michael said. "Dobby needs you. He's still getting used to us."

Dobby was chewing voraciously on one of Lajen's sandals he'd dragged out 
of the shelter earlier, plenty comfortable with his new family, but Raul 
took the hint. He and Lajen took turns trying to wrestle the sandal away 
from Dobby, while Luis and his friends jogged happily toward the beach.

"Look," Celes said shortly. "The fireflies are coming out."

The 'fireflies' were tiny insects that, like the fireflies of Earth, lit 
up with phosphorescence. They were especially active in the early 
evening hours. While the fireflies of Earth flitted about in individual, 
random movements, these insects flew together in a synchronized manner, 
in a sort of choreographed group dance.

"It's amazing the way they stay in such perfect formation," Angelo said.

"It's like they're painting the sky," Jim murmured as several dozen of 
them swept to and fro in shimmering pinpoints of light, like 
brushstrokes across a canvas.

Then Dobby jumped at the insects, yapping and trying to catch those 
intriguing specks of light in his mouth. They were out of his reach, but 
the noise was enough to send them racing away, to dance somewhere else.

Much later, after Neusha had departed--glancing back once at Jim with 
that curious gaze, as if she was trying to figure him out--and everyone 
else had gone inside, the fireflies returned, and Jim watched them from 
the doorway of his shelter. He looked too at the stars, their formations 
unfamiliar as yet, with Pioneer shining bright and steady in its orbit 
straight above the colony. He looked across the colony site, where the 
glowlamps had been dimmed to half-illumination. It was quiet, the only 
sounds those of nature; trees rustling in the breeze, insect chirps and 
clicks, a distant monkey call...oh, and the occasional bark of a dog. No 
hum of engines, beeping of monitors, rumble of machinery, or whine of 
transporters. None of the trappings of extensive and ever-present 
technology.

Oh, they would be here, but in the background. This was to be his life 
now, one quite a bit simpler than he'd experienced growing up on Earth, 
and later in Starfleet. Simpler, but more basic, and more true, at least 
for him. For the first time since Equinox had been flung into the Delta 
Quadrant--ironically right back here in the Delta Quadrant--he felt a 
sense of complete and utter peace, as if he'd finally found where he 
belonged. Or had finally found himself again.

Jim took a final, satisfied look at his surroundings. He was sorry to 
leave the peaceful setting, but he knew he would see it again tomorrow 
night, and for the many nights to follow. He stood and stepped into his 
tiny shelter. It was time to write a letter that was overdue.

Epilogue:

Stardate 57897.5 Datastream queue, personal letter n17.
From: Jim Morrow, New Earth, Delta Quadrant
To: Noah Lessing, Luna City, Sol System
Routing: DQ Sec837--AQ Sec1 Rn554334.9Dj

*Hi, Noah,

*It was great to hear from you. It always is. I'm glad things are going 
so well with the flower shop, and that you've been able to spend a lot 
of time with Hannah. She's a really sweet kid.

*Thanks for keeping me updated on the latest from the Alpha Quadrant. I 
can't quite say "from home." I haven't felt like I've had one of those 
for a long time, except for a brief time on Voyager. Since then it's 
like I've been drifting with the galactic winds, seeing where they will 
take me and never getting anywhere. But I think I might have finally 
found a real home here. Or I'm about to make one here, if I put in some 
effort. It's about time I did that, I suppose. (Wait! I can hear your 
shout of triumph from 45,000 light years away!)

*I'm glad to hear Marla is staying in touch with you. I didn't agree 
with her choice, but if she's found a sense of peace, then good for her. 
I don't know if Harry read her letter, since I haven't had much contact 
with the other ships during the journey. If they have a future, I have 
to believe it will work itself out. Hopefully Harry will understand that 
Marla had to be happy with herself first before she could be happy with him.

*Speaking of happy, I don't know if Angelo has written you yet (right, 
we both know Angelo is almost as slow as I am at writing letters!), but 
he and Celes are doing great. Before dinner tonight they told us they're 
expecting a baby. Yep, it's true! And they aren't the only ones. Get 
this: I know Angelo told you about Distor Stann, the fellow whose home 
planet was destroyed by that Cyclops machine? Well, it turns out his 
children will be the first born on New Earth, followed closely by the 
Tessoni baby.

*I'm sure you're wondering how this could be. I'll skip the details on 
that until next time. (Gives you something to look forward to!). Anyway, 
you can probably tell that it's going pretty good here for everyone. Oh, 
there's been a glitch or two, like the Romulan centurion abducting Luis 
Ayala. (That worked out fine, and Luis is doing really well!) For the 
most part though, New Earth is even better than anyone imagined. I think 
we'll all be happy here. Even me. And I think I deserve it.

*I know that's a surprise to hear. It's taken me this long to believe 
that I do. I was furious about Marla being made to feel like an outcast, 
and about the way Celes's family was treating Angelo. I told you to 
accept the good things you have in your life now because you've paid 
dearly enough for them. I seethed at the idea that people would treat 
any of you as less than the decent people you are, just because you made 
mistakes under unbelievable pressure. Serious mistakes, I know, but you 
were only human. Yet, for some reason, I couldn't apply any of that 
philosophy to myself.

*So, you were right after all, though no saying 'I told you so'! And I'm 
going to apply that philosophy now. At least I'm going to try. I'll keep 
you updated on my progress. This time I promise I won't wait two months 
to write.

*Still no word from Sofin? I didn't expect there would be. I honestly 
don't think we'll ever hear from him again. I think he's found a new 
life somewhere where he can pretend it all never happened. And we're 
just a reminder that it did. I can understand, but I'm glad the rest of 
us have stayed in touch.

*Speaking of staying in touch, write back again soon. Tell me how you're 
doing, and how Hannah's doing. Give my love to Marla when you talk to 
her, and tell her I'd like to write her too (you can forward the 
letter). And you take care of yourself, Noah.

*From New Earth, starting my new life, for real,

*Jim*

*^*^*^*^*

THE END...and the beginning.

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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