Ch 3: The An’Anaki
Janeway materialized in the square, to find it as it had been in her dream the night before. It was still dark out, and the area had been lit with towering torches. Their flames licked high into the sky, ruining her night vision, and blinding her to the stars. Somehow she longed even for the foreign skies of Aourea now. Maybe they would hold back the creeping sense of déjà vu.
Forcing herself to remain calm, she took stock of her surroundings. Beneath her were hard, dull granite slabs. Behind her the rocks dropped off. To her left and right were small buildings, grey stone all of them. Stealing herself, she turned her gaze back to the ziggurat. It too, was granite, though built in a much different style than the other structures. Where they were utilitarian, it was ornate. Where they were clearly built by mortals, it seemed to have been produced by gods. Or perhaps it grew straight from the mountains upon which it rested. They were temporal; it was ageless in its strength.
With an impending sense of dread, she searched the ground before the temple, looking for the altar. Perhaps it was already dyed with blood. As her eyes scanned the area, waiting for that dreadful table, they finally encountered…
Nothing.
There was nothing there. No altar. And Janeway let out a breath, releasing her fears. Feeling upbeat for the first time in days, she turned toward her officers and indicated the ziggurat. “Shall we?”
Nodding, they followed her lead, protecting her as she approached the massive doors. As they moved closer, she noticed a lone figure moving toward her. Eventually he coalesced into Dr’ouk. Instead of his stiff uniform, he wore a white robe over white pants and wraparound shirt. It resembled the uniforms favoured for Klingon martial arts; rough and durable.
“Good morning Janeway, welcome to Aourea.”
Aware of her starched dress uniform, Janeway sighed. “And to you Captain.”
“On the 12th day of Coldrig, you declared to me your Right to Captain a vessel in An’Anaki space. Today, on the 17th day of Coldrig, I will present this declaration to the Skoudra. Is this the path you wish to tread?”
Recognizing the ceremonial language of his request, Janeway returned in kind. “This is the path I wish to tread.” Dr’ouk seemed to relax at her declaration, and Janeway wondered just what he might have invested in this Rite.
“Then I ask you to follow in my path for a moment. I will assist you in what is required.” He gestured toward the door. “Please, follow me.”
They went after him, and the great doors swung open to allow them entry.
Janeway found herself in a massive anteroom. Bare granite walls stretched upward, lit by a source she couldn’t identify. She was struck by the sense of importance of the space; though she couldn’t decipher its meaning, she was aware of both anticipation and history being held in the great stone chamber. The inherent contradiction didn’t bother her. A small part of her mind oscillated lazily between the possibilities, the rest alert to her surroundings.
Four yellow clad figures approached from the left. Following Dr’ouk’s cue, the Voyagers moved to face them. There were three women and a man in the group, and as they drew near, Janeway could see that only one, one of the women, was of the same species as Dr’ouk. For the first time Janeway realized the An’Anaki Oligarchy might be an exception to the rule of one species governments common in the delta quadrant. This Oligarchy could be similar to the Federation…or the Dominion she’d heard about in the last transmission from HQ.
The other two females were so pale they seemed to glow in the dim light. Janeway would have taken them for albinos, if not for their startlingly purple eyes. Their smiles revealed not teeth, but some sort of bony plate. The male was a squat, powerfully built character, with a twin set of tusks protruding from his mouth. Leathery grey skin covered his body.
As the party slowed, the woman of Dr’ouk’s species stepped forward. “Janeway, I am Keeper Tad’q. I ask you to follow my path.”
Janeway nodded, and followed the woman. One of the others trailed behind. It was then that Janeway noticed Tad’q’s robe was a darker yellow, bordering on saffron to the other’s canary. In a few moments they reached the edge of the room. Tad’q led down a narrow corridor, and finally into what seemed to be a change room. The second woman continued deeper into the chamber, while Janeway and Tad’q stopped near a bench.
“You must change your clothes before the Right.” The second woman returned with a small pile of white garments. Tad’q took them, nodding to the woman, “Thank you.”
Turning to Janeway again, Tad’q lifted a pair of pants from the stack. “These are first.”
Realizing the other women expected her to strip, Janeway sat and pulled off her boots. Next, she reached for the fastenings of her pants, pulling them down and off. When she reached for the pants, Tad’q withdrew her hand.
“You must take off everything.”
Suppressing a sigh, she reached for the waistband of her Starfleet issue shorts. Though she’d never admit it, she felt a little self-conscious. Not that she’d never changed in front of another woman before, but in the academy the other women had been just as naked as she. Now though, with two fully clothed strangers instructing her, she felt a little ridiculous.
Naked from the waist down, she took the pants, pulling them on gratefully. After a moment’s investigation, she discovered strings attached to either side and pulled them to her front, tightening the loose waist so the garment hung comfortably on her hips. Tad’q nodded in approval, then held up a wraparound top. Striping the rest of the way, Janeway donned the shirt and fastened the ties at the left side.
“Now we must go to the grand hall for the Judgement. We will remain with you to guide you. If you do not understand something, it is permitted for you to ask us for clarification at any time.”
She was relived for the offer of guidance. “Thank you.”
Both women nodded, and Tad’q began the journey back to the first large room. Dr’ouk was waiting for them there, though Tom, Tuvok and the other two were nowhere in sight.
Dr’ouk stepped forward upon their arrival. “Please stay in my path, Janeway.” He then turned and led toward a set of heavy wooden doors. Raising a palm, he pounded on the door, once, twice, thrice. After the third knock, the two doors swung slowly inward, giving Janeway her first glimpse of what could only be the grand hall.
The room was an oval, and its structure reminded her of the ancient theatres of Greece. Janeway and her escorts emerged onto what would have been the stage. A series of wide steps moved the floor upward in three directions until it met the wall. Well over a hundred people were seated on the tiers, dressed in the same white pants she now wore, but naked above the waist. A quick survey revealed at least fifteen different species, and an equal mix of men and women. The only sound as they entered was the snapping of a huge fire to her left. To the right a row of nine people sat, each wearing a different shade of red pants.
Suddenly, Dr’ouk stepped forward. “I, Captain Dr’ouk of the Northern Sentinel, come here on this, the 17th day of Coldrig, to proclaim Janeway’s declaration of her Right of Captaincy.”
A middle-aged woman wearing dark red pants stood. “Janeway, is this true?”
Finding her mouth dry, she swallowed quickly before answering, “It is.”
The woman turned back to Dr’ouk. “And you, Captain, believe her claim to be worthy of consideration by this council of Skoudra?”
“I do.”
“Then let her be judged.”
*
Tom Paris watched his captain walk off with the two alien women, before realising that the yellow-clad male was speaking.
“-We are at your service for the duration of your stay. Please follow my path, and I’ll lead you to somewhere you can rest.”
Tuvok inclined his head. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
They were shown to a set of rooms, complete with bedrooms, bathroom, and dining area. After scouting their quarters, Tuvok turned to Paris.
“I suggest you get some rest, Lieutenant. It is still early in Voyager’s morning, and we will be here for quite some time.”
Paris didn’t like it, but as he stifled another yawn, he saw the reason in the Vulcan’s comment. “You’ll wake me if anything happens?” Chief of Security he might be, but Tom was still the best medic on the ship.
Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Mr. Paris.”
Nodding, Tom checked the calibration of his tricorder. Satisfied that it was still receiving information from the Captain’s sub dermal implant, he handed it over to Tuvok and went to figure out how to sleep without rumpling his dress uniform.
*
Janeway sat cross-legged in front of a low table, facing out toward the crowd. Dr’ouk had set a large pitcher and a small wooden cup in front of her. From her position, she could see that each member of the audience also held a cup.
Again the red clothed woman spoke: “Let the cups be filled.”
Dr’ouk leaned over to fill Janeway’s cup. She could see pitchers being passed along each isle. A man, dressed in a robe of yellow so rich, it made Tad’q’s look old and washed out, approached from her left. He placed his own wooden cup on Janeway’s table. With a bow, Dr’ouk filled his cup, too.
When everyone save Dr’ouk and her two aides had been served, the woman rose again. “In absona, the truth lives.”
As one, the room raised their glasses to their mouths, drinking deeply. A little behind the initial swallow, Janeway quickly caught up. Her experience from the academy stood her in good steed; instinctively she opened her throat and let the fiery liquid slide into stomach. When the whole group slammed their empty glasses onto the floor, Janeway had to resist the urge to laugh; it seemed this whole Rite was nothing more than a drinking party.
As soon as the echo from the glasses had subsided, three men near the fire on her left began to drum. Lulled by the music, she didn’t notice the man in yellow move behind her until she felt his hands resting gently on her back. Feeling no danger, she relaxed back into the rhythms filling the room.
Sometime later, the drumming stopped and the woman rose once again. “Let the cups be filled anew.”
This time only Dr’ouk moved, filling her cup.
Again, the benediction, “In absona, the truth lives.”
Two more glasses were drained and upended onto the table. Once more the musicians played, and the man placed his hands on her back.
A while later, Janeway began to notice the affects of the liquor. Instead of the dullness associated with alcohol, her senses seemed sharper. Her attention, however, was easily caught. Trying to draw her thoughts away from the drums and the hands on her back required a titanic effort.
And then the drums stopped again, and the woman stood. Another glass filled and drained. Janeway was now a slave to her senses, unable to control her thoughts; she was totally lost in the sensations around her. The heat from the fire, the sound of the drums, and even the smell of the liquid clinging to the wooden cup. She was overwhelmed by the complexities of her environment. Things that her consciousness habitually ignored as irrelevant jumped into startling relief. Never had a single grain of wood, or the small sounds of cloth and flesh against stone as people changed position so enraptured her. There was beauty, and music and purpose in everything.
So captivated was she, that it took her a few moments to notice when the drumming ended. This time the woman didn’t rise. Instead, her two aids pulled her gently to her feet. Carefully they supported her while Dr’ouk reached for an apparatus off to the side. Once he placed it in front of her, Janeway recognized it as a kneeling chair with a chest rest. With the assistance of the three An’Anaki, she was fit onto the chair. A moment later the man’s hands returned to her back. Only then did she realise how much she’d missed his presence. Once they were both settled, she heard the woman’s voice again, but when Janeway looked over, her lips weren’t moving.
*Janeway?*
She tried to answer, tried to move her mouth, but still her body wouldn’t respond.
*Janeway?* The woman’s gentle probe returned.
Finally she managed to make her self known, forcing out a sluggish, *Yes.*
*Welcome.*
A smile enveloped her. She could feel the woman’s happiness at the connection. And then fainter, in the background, the others in the room expressed their own welcome.
*Thank you.* This time her answer was more sure.
*I want you to sing for me Janeway,* the woman began, *I want you to sing of safety for me*
At first she was confused, what did this woman mean, sing? But then something prodded her, and she understood. Unbidden, a memory of her childhood came rushing forward. She was crouched in the kneehole of her father’s desk at their home in Indiana, listening to him work. Never in her life had she felt so secure.
Another smile from the woman. *Thank you Janeway. Can you sing to me now of Indiana?*
This time, instead of a single memory, her mind was flooded with hundreds of recollections. She relived them all, her walk home after loosing a tennis match, watching a thunderstorm roll over the cornfields, climbing her grandfather’s tree…
It was this last one that the woman latched onto, prompting Janeway gently. In her mind’s eye, she was back on Earth, ten years old on a lazy summer afternoon. Standing at the base of the tree, she jumped lightly up, catching the bottom branch securely in her hands. Turning so she faced the trunk, she slowly walked up, settling her left foot on a small bump. The outgrowth gave her all the leverage she needed to wrap first her right, then both legs around the branch in her hands. With her weight held by her legs, a quick pull propelled her to the next branch so she slide over and sat comfortably. A few more seconds and she was climbing confidently toward the peak.
This time, when the memory faded, Janeway was struck with a longing, a weariness for home she had brushed aside for so many years. The second memory had been more intense, more real. She wanted nothing more than to be back on the plains of her home, climbing trees and running through cornfields. She was aware of a tear rolling gently down her cheek, and thought she might, just this once, open herself to despair. But she was also aware of a sense of satisfaction from the audience, and the will of Captain Janeway once again asserted itself over the lonely girl who needed to sit under her father’s desk to feel safe. She pulled herself together, and she could tell the woman was proud of her composure.
*Now Janeway, the connection has been tested, and the Judgement can begin.”
*
Tuvok looked once again at the tricorder before him. He’d spent his time meditating, keeping his mind alert in case of danger. It was the instrument’s quiet beep that had brought him out of meditation. For the second time, his Captain’s vital signs fluctuated. Nothing drastic, nothing to be too concerned about, but nonetheless, he remained vigilant.
Tom Paris chose that moment to emerge from his room, hair mussed and uniform rumpled. “Any change?”
“The Captain’s vital signs have become elevated.”
Tom took a seat beside the Vulcan and studied the tricorder. Her readings were well within acceptable ranges, elevated from normal, but not unusual. One set of readings, however stood out. Every measure of brain function was well above normal, bordering on the red zone the Doctor had established. Though there could be many causes for elevation, they bothered Tom. Something was happening to his Captain and he couldn’t tell what.
With a sigh, Paris leaned back against his chair. There was no way he’d sleep now.
*
*I want you to sing to me of anger.*
Again the images poured out, piling up and puddling together. Her sister dumping water onto her head, finding out about Seska, Chakotay arguing with her about the Borg, about the Equinox, about the Kazon – *Equinox.* - and her thoughts were sent spinning off in another direction.
The first thing she remembered about the Equinox, the first thing she always remembered, was looking up at Chakotay after she’d left Noah Lessing in the cargo bay. She’d been filled with anger; she’d burned with it at the time. She could remember how narrow her field of vision had become as she focused all of her being on her mission, her need to bring in Ransom. Now, after remembering the incident so many times, after replaying it endlessly in her mind, something else held her attention about the moment she left Chakotay and Lessing in the corridor. All she could see as she pushed past Chakotay was the look of disappointment in his eyes. She could see his sadness at the humanity Captain Janeway had left behind in the cargo bay with Lessing to die. Lessing may have come out alive, but looking at Chakotay’s eyes for that one, brief moment, she knew he believed something of her remained as a sacrifice. And she worried he might be right.
Then she moved back from the memory, and instead of focusing in on a single moment, she allowed the larger story to come into view. Voyager’s discovery of another Federation ship caught by the Caretaker, then of its fuel source. How her anger at Ransom and her need to bring him to justice pervaded everything she did for weeks. How she’d relieved her first officer and closest advisor in pursuit of the criminal. And then finally her acceptance of the Equinox five, and her almost apology to Chakotay. She was happy to leave this piece of her personal history in the past. It had been a dark time for her, and she didn’t like to dwell on it.
The woman seemed to be picking her directions carefully, choosing from a number of options presented by Janeway’s last vision. Though she finally settled on a question, Janeway could sense the inquisitiveness from the rest of the room. There were still many topics to be explored, many questions yet to be answered. For the first time, she realized that the people in the room with her weren’t ignorant of the Equinox. The information they’d given Dr’ouk had contained a reference to the other lost ship, no matter how small, and the An’Anaki had latched onto it, digging for more.
*Sing to me of the Caretaker.*
*
Tom paced the length of the sitting room again. They’d been on the planet for 22 hours now, and still the Captain’s brain functions remained elevated. For 18 of those hours her readings had been just below the red zone, not quite crossing over and allowing him to intervene in whatever was happening to his Captain. Instead, he remained awake, biting his nails and pacing ruts in the carpet. Even Tuvok seemed anxious. Unfortunately, there was nothing either of them could do, except stay awake and watch the lights on the tricorder.
Silently, Tom counted down the time. Four hours, seventeen minutes to go.
*
Janeway could sense the urgency in the group as she came out of the memory. This time she’d relived the shuttle crash that had killed her father and fiancé. Drained as she was after the experience, she forced her attention back to the faint voices around her.
*Sing to me of fear.*
And Janeway let loose a mental belly laugh. It was rooted in the time Voyager had found a world mired in an ice age. A few hibernation pods remained, but some of the would-be colonists had died from heart failure, scared to death. While that was no laughing matter, the character that’d greeted her had been a source of amusement for her from time to time. She’d entered the program only as an outsider, never a full participant. Oh, she knew Harry had been a little unnerved by the whole affair, but he’d settled down again as soon as he’d encountered some species more worthy of his concern. For her though, it was impossible to view the clown-prince of fear as anything more than a bad joke. As she reviewed the memory, she found a sense of amusement pervading the room; it seemed the An’Anaki agreed with her assessment of Fear’s power.
As the amusement died down, she felt the woman back in her mind, more earnest this time. *Sing to me of fear, Janeway.*
And now Kathryn Janeway didn’t laugh. Now she remembered not a ridiculous clown, but a spider that wanted to pull her into his web. The alien and his matrix and all the shifting realities he’d brought surfaced, clutching at her again. And this time she knew fear.
*
Finally, the chase ended. The twisting journey through the most terrifying moments in her life had terminated with something personal; her dream from the night before. Reliving the experience had brought her no peace, and she was ashamed of her thoughts, the way they made Dr’ouk an enemy. It left her drained, exhausted both in body and spirit. The link between her and the others had dimmed steadily through her final journey, and she missed it terribly. Its distance reminded her of her own remoteness: from her ship, her crew, and her home. She felt alone and insignificant.
*Janeway.* The voice was barely a whisper, but she strained to hear it. *Sing to me of hope.*
And Janeway’s eyes welled up, spilling tears down her face and onto the floor. Through it all, through the torment of the past hours, and the past years, one image had sustained her above all others. In her mind’s eye she conjured the vision of a small blue-green marble set against the backdrop of a thousand foreign suns. Earth. One word, one world, one overwhelming motivation. Once more in this life she would set foot on the green shores of Earth. She would run through the cornfields of Indiana, she would watch the solitary moon rise, and see the Pacific swallow the sun at the end of the day. She would count the familiar constellations, tracing from Ursa Major, to Polaris and The Little Bear. She would follow Draco’s tail, and salute the King and Queen; the Hunter; the Hero. And she would know peace.
This vision faded, leaving her once again feeling empty and beaten. But there was a small spark left behind in her, and once again determination flared. She would get home if she had to get out and push Voyager.
“Kathryn Janeway.” The woman had risen to stand before her.
It was a moment before Janeway could regain herself. For an instant all she was aware of was the woman, and a constant clank-clank-clank of metal hitting metal from somewhere behind her. Finally she licked her lips and spoke. “Yes…” The word felt thick in her mouth. After communicating mind to mind for so long, speaking felt sluggish and inefficient. She was surprised by the texture of the word; she’d never realized how physical spoken language was.
“You came here to be judged by this council of Skoudra. Are you prepared for the judgement?”
“I am.” Like the telepathic bond, verbal communication was easier the second time.
“It is the judgement of this Skoudrid, and the council for which I stand, that you, Kathryn Janeway, human of Earth, are fit to Captain a vessel in An’Anaki space. Do you accept the rights and responsibilities of this position?”
She’d passed? Somehow she was surprised. Where was the physical component? Shaking off the thought, she answered the question. “I do.”
The Skoudrid raised her voice, as though speaking not only to the room, but also to some imagined audience beyond. “Then let no one doubt Kathryn Janeway’s worthiness. Today she is an An’Anaki Captain.” She nodded once to the two attendants, and immediately they reached for Janeway’s shirt.
For a moment she wanted to resist, feeling self conscious at exposure. But almost everyone else was nude, and she knew that being shirtless was a small concession after exposing her. With a sigh, she shrugged of the garment, wondering what could possibly be next.
The Skoudrid seemed to look over Janeway’s shoulder for a moment, and she was aware of a faint hiss from behind her, before the woman looked her in the eye again, smiling. She nodded her head once, in respect.
And then something touched her back.
Where the yellow man’s touch had been a comfort in her dark remembrances, giving her the strength to continue her journey, the heat now pouring over her paralysed her, pushing her bare body into the soft suede of the chest rest. Finally, unable to resist any longer, a scream ripped through her body, tearing at her throat. A moment later, she realized that the other people had opened their mouths, echoing her pain. Dimly she understood that the connection must still be working, and they were siphoning off some of the agony of her burning back, making the pain bearable.
Eventually, the metal was removed, and the scream died away. Slowly Janeway raised her head. In front of her stood her audience, their backs to her. Each bore a scar on their left shoulder blade, and she knew the pain she’d endured would mark her as well. Looking around her, she saw Dr’ouk and her attendants, the yellow man, and the group of nine dressed in red all standing as the others; bare backs to her, allowing her to admire the craftsmanship of their brands. Only one woman at the back remained seated and, Janeway, noticed, was wearing her robe.
A sudden stinging from the burn caught her attention, distracting her from her train of thought. She looked over her shoulder to see a man in orange pants smearing a thick red ointment on the wound. Glancing around the room again, she could see some of the scars carried pigments in the raised skin. A handful of orange, yellow and blue, two green, but no others bore red. She didn’t have time to wonder at the significance, as the group turned to face her once more.
The Skoudrid smiled at her. “Welcome to the An’Anaki, Captain.”
And the spell was broken. The An’Anaki rose and began to replace their shirts, chatting quietly to each other as they prepared to depart. Her attendants placed a dressing on her shoulder, and then helped her into her shirt. Dr’ouk approached her as she fastened the ties once more.
“I wish to take my leave of you now, Captain.” Gone was the aloofness she’d felt from him before. In its place she could almost feel…reverence.
“Thank you for your help, Captain. Though I would like to ask you a question if I may?”
“Of course, Captain. What is your question?”
“There was one woman I noticed. She didn’t show me her back. I’m curious to know why.”
“What colour did she wear?”
Janeway thought for a moment, remembering the woman sitting near the back of the room. “She wore the same white robe, but it had some kind of trim to it. Dark blue, I think.”
Dr’ouk’s eyes widened. “She must have been an Emissary.”
“An Emissary?”
“From the Kaliphts.” Realizing her confusion, he elaborated. “The Kaliphts are the rulers of our society. Those wearing the darkest indigo form the Oligarch, and decide the path of An’Anaki society for generations to come.”
“And they would send an Emissary to my Right of Captaincy?”
“It is very, very rare, but not unheard of. When a candidate is suspected to be something special, an Emissary will sometimes be sent to bring back a more detailed account of the judgement. I myself had an Emissary from our City’s Kaliphite. It was a great honour. But you, you are marked for great things.”
Before she could question him further, the Skoudrid started toward her.
Dr’ouk schooled his features, and inclined his head. “Captain. May your path be clear.”
“And yours.”
As soon as he left, the woman approached her. “Captain Janeway. Welcome to the An’Anaki.”
Janeway inclined her head, in what she took to be an An’Anaki gesture of respect. “Thank you Skoudrid.”
“Skoudrid Yerivat has asked to speak with you for a few minutes before you depart Aourea. Will you permit this?”
Puzzled, Janeway nodded. “Of course.”
“Tad’q will guide you to the terrace. Tread well, Captain Janeway.”
*
A bang at the door grabbed Tom’s attention. He’d started to relax a few minutes ago when Janeway’s readings had finally started to drop off, only to have them spike in a huge surge of adrenaline a few moments later. At the same time, a sound had found its way through the stone and into their ears. The collective scream he and Tuvok had heard made his hair stand on end, and would haunt him for years. Now though, he was even more keyed up, wondering what was going on.
Tuvok, calm as always, rose to answer the door. Their two escorts had returned.
“You Captain’s judgement is at an end. Tread
with us, and we will await her.”
Relieved that it would be over soon, Tom followed Tuvok and
their yellow-clothed hosts back to the anteroom.
*
The terrace was a wide platform built into the side of the ziggurat. Two small benches sat a few metres back from the edge. Standing before the right bench was a red-clad Skoudrid. His robes were almost crimson, and he held himself confidently.
“Captain Janeway, I offer my congratulations on achieving Captaincy.”
“Thank you Skoudrid.”
The older man flashed a fang in amusement. “My name is Yerivat.”
Janeway smiled back at him. “I’m Kathryn.”
“Kathryn.” Her name rolled slowly off his tongue. “Please, join me.”
Kathryn moved to sit on the bench he offered. Though stone, she found it comfortable after so many hours of kneeling. As her host settled himself, she took the opportunity to look around, really noticing her surroundings for the first time.
Two high torches stood on the terrace, casting a flickering light around them, breaking up the darkness of what she could only guess to be early morning. Janeway shivered involuntarily. Yerivat beckoned to Tad’q, and she came forward bearing a long coat of finely woven, creamy wool. Gratefully, she shrugged it on, reaching with clumsy fingers to fasten the brushed silver buttons. When she finished her task, she found Yerivat wearing the same garment, only in a deep crimson to match his other clothing.
“I’d forgotten how damp it gets here in the morning. We’re right on the ocean, and if it were light enough, I bet we’d see fog all around us.”
“Thank you for this,” she said, gesturing at the coat.
He waved her off with a flick of his hand. “Not at all. It is the custom of our people to provide clothing for Captains appropriate to the climate when they arrive on planet.”
After a few moments, Yerivat rose again. Moving to first one torch, then the other, he extinguished their flames with a control on the pillars. She heard him sit back down in the darkness.
“The light ruins my species’ night vision.”
“Mine too.”
They sat silently again, and Janeway’s vision gradually cleared. Below her, she could see a scattering of lights. More appeared as she watched, winking on under the slowly brightening sky. Her sleep-deprived mind started to wander, forming constellations from the distant specks. That one looks like a leola root, that one like my communicator, that one like Chakotay’s tattoo…
Yerivat left her with her thoughts for a moment before interrupting quietly, “would you like something to eat?”
Looking down, Kathryn could make out the small loaf Yerivat offered her in the dim light. She accepted it, finding it warm to the touch, and her mouth watered at its scent. “Thank you.”
“The Judgement is demanding. It’s not unheard of for new Captains to loose consciousness afterward. The jurig helps some make it out of the temple under their own power. Give it a try; I think you’ll like it.
Janeway nodded once and sunk her teeth into the bread. Sharp cheese mixed with spices and meat filled her mouth along with the bread shell. Though simple, she could fell her strength returning with the first swallow.
“This is wonderful.”
Yerivat beamed. “I’ll be sure to tell the baker. This was his first time preparing for a Right of Captaincy. Though he would never admit it, I know he was nervous.”
“He shouldn’t be.”
“I will make sure he knows of your approval. It will mean much to an old man near the end of his journey. I doubt he thought he would ever be called upon for such a task; the colony here on Aourea is but 20 summers old, and you are the first to have their Right here.”
Janeway’s brow furrowed at that. “Really? I’d have thought the Temple was much older than that.”
“It is. The first stone was laid over 500 years ago. A group of Keepers kept a vigil, maintaining the temple and waiting. The first group of colonists was dispatched once the path was clear and secure.
“It strikes me, Kathryn, that though you are now An’Anaki, and we know much about you, there is little you know about us.”
“You’re right, but I’d like to learn.”
“I am glad to hear that.” He reached down to retrieve two small devices. In the rising light, Janeway thought they looked like PADDs. “These are Library Index Interface Devices. They are designed to view and index the material contained on these cartridges.” He pulled a finger-length piece out of the back. I’d like to give you two sets of cartridges; one with general information about the An’Anaki, and one set with information only a Captain may view. Is this acceptable to you?”
“Yerivat, I would very much appreciate this, and I’m sure my crew would too. After answering Dr’ouk’s questions, my crew is eager to learn about your people.”
“I’m gratified to know that, Kathryn. It makes me confident the path we share will be an auspicious one.”
Janeway simply nodded. She’d finished her jurig, and exhaustion was starting to take over.
Yerivat seemed to sense her wariness, and started to wrap up the conversation, “Kathryn, is there anything your ship needs right now, supplies, or time for repairs, anything?”
“My crew needs shore leave. We’ve been traveling non-stop for several months now.”
“I believe Tuaro might be suitable for you. It lays 15 days journey from here, and is well populated. The inhabitants are used to trade, and welcome travellers. Your escort, Captain Rochek on the Running Night can give you further details.”
“Thank you, Yerivat.”
Yerivat stood, offering Kathryn a hand up. “I’ll have our library transported to your vessel. There is one other thing you need to know, however, before our paths deviate. You now bear the mark of a Captain, and there are certain things that this mark represents.”
He paused a moment, making sure he had her attention before continuing. “This is more than just a mark. The salve spread on your back contains symbiotic bacteria. When the bacteria are excited by the presence of absona, they allow the type of telepathic bond you experienced today. Do you understand?
They’d put some sort of bacteria into her back? Though concerned, in her exhaustion she could only manage to answer the question posed by Yerivat: “I think so.”
“Good. I want to assure you, the bacteria are not dangerous to your health. There is a section on this topic in the encyclopaedia that you may wish to share with your doctor. What is more important, however, is that a small amount of absona will allow to Captains to share memories. If you’re willing, I’d like to show you how this is done.”
At Janeway’s nod, he continued, “First, I want you to place you right hand against my back.”
With his guidance, Janeway placed her hand over the brand on his shoulder blade. Once her hand was in place, he moved his own hand, resting it gently against the bandage on her back.
“Now, close your eyes and relax. I’ll begin, and I want you to tell me what I’m remembering.”
Closing her eyes, Janeway was struck first by the heat. She opened her eyes to find twin suns blazing overhead, beating down on her back. Taking stock of her surroundings, she found she was standing on the edge of a cliff. Below her a deep blue lake glistened in the sunlight. Two figures in the water broke the surface. One of them yelled up to her.
“C’mon, Yerivat! Make your path over the edge!”
Her stomach churned at the idea of hurling herself over the ledge, but a firm hand rested on her shoulder. She turned to find a youth standing behind her, his stripped skin glistening with water. Though he seemed small, and she could see his mane was only just beginning to grow in, he stood a full head over her.
“I know you can do it Yeri, don’t think, just let your feet set the path.”
Without responding, she started walking away from the edge. When she was five metres from the cliff, she turned and ran, leaping out into the air. She looked down and saw the water rushing toward her. Her stomach clenched at the feel of open air under her feet, and her arms pin-wheeled, keeping her body vertical. Instinctively she pulled her arms in and streamlined her body before plunging into the water’s welcoming clutch.
She kicked to the surface, finding the three other youths swimming toward her. The two from the water were yelling at her, cheering and splashing. But the boy from on top the cliff wore a face-splitting smile, and somehow that was all she cared about.
As suddenly as it started, the vision faded, but she could swear she still felt the heat of two suns beating down on her back.
“That is my favourite memory of my brother.” Yerivat said, “I couldn’t have been more than ten summers then, but he trusted me to cliff-jump with his friends. Now, the next time we meet, I should like to have a memory in return, but for now I think it best that I have Tad’q show you the path back to you ship.”
“Thank you, Skoudrid.”
Tad’q appeared from the shadows and gently guided her back into the Temple.
*
Paris and Tuvok were waiting in the grand hall when Janeway reappeared. Though the An’Anaki had assured them that the Judgement was at an end, Tom couldn’t keep his eyes off the tricorder. The Captain’s vitals had slowly levelled off, but Tom wouldn’t be satisfied until they were back on the ship and the Doctor could get a good look at her.
When Janeway finally emerged from within the temple, Tom felt some of the tension start to leave. A single glance told him that she was exhausted but physically fit. The ordeal seemed to have drained her though, making her seem smaller, more vulnerable.
As she approached, Tom started to scan her with the tricorder. She shook her head at him, “Tom, the Doctor will have plenty of opportunity to prod me once we get back. Let’s leave it for the moment, shall we?”
Tom responded with a sheepish “Aye-aye Captain.” Before following her out of the temple and back onto the concourse. Once outside they beamed back to Voyager, disappearing into the swirling fog.
*
“Commander, Captain Rochek on the Running Night should be contacting us shortly.” Captain Janeway was in Voyager’s sickbay, with Chakotay and the Doctor. She’d ordered the Doctor to hold off taking tests until after she’d briefed Chakotay. So now he stood, breathing down the Commander’s neck, tapping his foot impatiently.
“The Running Night?” Chakotay prompted gently when Kathryn’s attention started to wander.
Blinking, Janeway tried to focus. “The Running Night is our escort in An’Anaki space. Captain Rochek will give you the co-ordinates for the planet Tuaro. We’ll be taking at least a week’s shore leave there, so the crew should have ample time to get off the ship.
“He’ll also be beaming over two crates. One should be taken to my quarters immediately. The other holds information about the An’Anaki. See if you can’t find out something about Tuaro so we have an idea of what we’re getting ourselves into.”
Chakotay nodded, saying, “Of course Captain, sleep well,” before leaving sickbay to await Captain Rochek’s transmission.
The doors hadn’t fully closed and already the Doctor had his tricorder over Janeway’s back. “I’ve never seen a burn like this before…the edges are too precise…the pattern is too clear…” Suddenly his brown eyes snapped up, a look of revulsion plastered on his face. “What did they do, brand you?”
Though she’d been expecting a strong reaction from him, she had no energy to argue. “Is it a danger to my health?”
His expression softened. “No, it’s not.” Quickly he reached for a dermal regenerator. “If you’ll remove your shirt, I’ll get rid of the scarring.”
She caught the hand holding the instrument and slowly shook her head. “The scars stay. And it has to heal naturally.”
With a long-suffering sigh, the Doctor put his instruments away. “The dressing seems to have both antibacterial and healing properties. If you’re careful, it should heal over in 2-3 weeks.”
Janeway nodded, about to stand, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Now, Captain, Voyager is normally a clean ship, and quite conducive to healing. However, if you won’t allow me to heal your wound, I’m going to have to insist you stay out of Engineering, and anywhere else you might pick up contaminants for at least two weeks.”
“Understood.”
“And you’re officially relieved of duty for 48 hours. I expect you back in here tomorrow morning so I can do a more thorough examination.”
“Yes, Doctor.” She was fading fast and wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed and drift off. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning,” she called on her way out.
Once back in her quarters she wasted no time stripping off the An’Anaki clothing she still wore. A trail of white cloth followed her into the bedroom, where she crawled under the covers.
As she fell asleep, she remembered the dream she’d had the last time she’d slept. Though it worried her, she was far too exhausted to be kept awake by it. Instead, she pulled the covers tighter and fell into a deep slumber.
*
“She passed.”
“You sound surprised, Yerivat.”
“Hardly. Remember, I didn’t doubt Dr’ouk’s instincts. I’m gratified to see how honed they are.”
“True,” the woman, still dressed as an Emissary, admitted. “She’s even been marked as a Skoudrid. You didn’t do that too boost Dr’ouk’s ego, did you?”
In his younger days, Yerivat would have been insulted by such an insinuation. Now, however, especially with this companion, he simply raised a fang and leaned in towards her. “You realise, my friend, that the only decision concerning Janeway was whether to mark her as a Skoudrid, or a Kalipht.”