From: 95lnm@williams.edu (Lisa Masterman)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: "Aeia" epilogue and repost (5)
Date: 6 Jan 1993 01:52:05 GMT
Organization: Williams College, Williamstown, MA
Distribution: usa
NNTP-Posting-Host: welsh.cs.williams.edu

"Aeia"

PART FIVE

Troi supported Aeia's weight with her arm around the slender waist.  They 
stood in silence as the turbolift descended.

"What are you going to do?" she asked finally.

Aeia took a deep breath and regarded the panels in front of her.  "Dhyle is a 
young man," she answered at last.  "He is a good leader, but an inexperienced 
one.  The Romulans must have bought his loyalty, perhaps with this improve 
cloaking technology.  But his alliance to their Empire is superficial.  An 
alliance that is formed weakly can be broken easily."  The door opened and 
they moved out together, striding towards the transporter room.  Aeia added 
quietly: "I hope."

Standing at his console, O'Brien shook his head in disbelief as Aeia took her 
place on the pad.  "I can't believe they're going to drop their shields to allow 
you to get over."

"They will," Aeia responded firmly.  "Dhyle's curiosity will ensure my safety 
and your safety until I am aboard their ship and can prove to him that I am 
who I say I am."

"And then what?" asked Troi from where she stood beside O'Brien.

"Then the Romulans will try to kill me," Aeia responded, her voice dark and 
serious.  "What happens then will depend on Dhyle," she added as she began 
to fade in the transporter beam.

Troi started to protest, but knew it was too late.  She sent all of her hopes 
away with the disappearing figure.

------------------------------------------------------

When Aeia materialized, five Romulan phasers were levelled at her.  It was 
as she had expected.

Dhyle stood before her.  Despite the thick build of his kind, he was tall.  His 
brown mane of coarse hair would be considered handsome by one of his 
kind, and his amber eyes could be very romantic in the right situation.  This 
was not one of them.

"Hello, Dhyle," she said.

"Impostor," he hissed.  "The Petryans never looked like you, so pale and thin!  
So ugly!"

Her voice was low and steady.  "You know as I know that my kind are not 
limited by form, Dhyle.  I am living amongst humans; I have assumed their 
appearance.  I could also be a Katryan, like my people were at Kjala."

"What do YOU know of Kjala?" he stormed.

Aeia took silent notice of the quickness of his answer.  "I was there," she 
said.  Were you? she wondered silently.

Dhyle considered this for a long time.  He turned to the armed Romulans and 
motioned for them to leave.  When they hesitated, he hissed, "She is a lone 
woman, and unarmed.  I do not need five of you to help me control her."  
They left reluctantly, a door hissing to a close behind their departing forms.

"Prove it," he commanded.

She thought quickly.  Kjala was an experience they both shared, and his 
emotions on the subject ran deep.  She chose that avenue, if not to lead to 
her proof, then at least to establish some common ground.  "What village was 
yours?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Yedras."

Aeia nodded, the only outward sign she showed of the sudden surge of hope 
she felt.  She had been at Yedras.  "Two hundred thirty-five dead," she said 
quietly.  She watched his reddish face as minute movements showed the 
emotions moving beneath the surface.  She opened her mind to his thoughts 
and saw the images flashing past, glimpses of pain, moments of suffering, a 
mental photo album of the ravages of the tragedy.  She had to strain to 
suppress her own memories; she had been young, and the deaths had carved 
themselves into her.  For every life that she had saved, there were ten she 
had lost.

Suddenly, one image drew her attention: a woman's face.  She remembered 
that face.  "There was a woman," she began tremulously, "that gave birth too 
early.  Her infant lived only a few moments; there was nothing I could do-"  
Aeia's voice choked.  She forced herself to go on.  "She never got to see his 
face, however; she was gone before he.  Her name... was Khali."

A shadow grew across Dhyle's face.  "My sister."

"Yes."

Without warning, the Katryan exploded from his sorrow and grabbed Aeia 
by both arms.  "You're lying!" he cried.  "You're using this information to get 
through to me; it won't work.  I was on the surface of this planet; I saw the 
abandoned homes.  This planet is empty."

"It is empty," she agreed, "except for me.  I am the one survivor of my 
people."  She searched her memory for a moment, and then continued, "She 
was survived by a son, a young boy.  He watched her die...  We kept him 
with us for a time before leaving the village and giving him to someone who 
promised to care for him."  She remembered the small, dirty hands that had 
clenched in the folds of her robe.  She saw the tear stains across the silent 
face, saw them dry and crust in the dirt, closing the boy in silence.  He could 
have been her own little brother.

Dhyle relaxed his grip a little.  "I should have been there," he said 
sorrowfully.  "I could have helped her, protected her.  She didn't have to 
die."

"But her child lived.  He should be" - she some quick figuring in her head - 
"twelve years old now."

"No!" he cried, resuming his grip so tightly that it hurt her.  His face was a 
livid display of hatred, and a moment of fear grabbed her; she pulled away 
with all of her strength, and in the struggle the sleeve of her shirt ripped in 
his grip.  "He's dead now, the F'korins, they killed him.  Don't you see, that's 
why we need the new cloaking devices.  We have to defeat them before 
more Katryans die...."  He pulled away from her, but his clenched fists had 
not released her sleeves yet, and he pulled the tear open to expose her left 
arm.  Suddenly, he stopped.

She glanced down at her arm.  Entwining blue and green bands, the symbol 
of her rank and achievements, decorated the skin of her forearm.  A jagged 
pink mark cut across the bands, visible to close scrutiny.  The bands and the 
scar showed clearly in the light of the room.

"Those marks," Dhyle said.  "What do they mean?"

"The bands are the marks of my people, showing my rank and what I have 
achieved."

"And the scar?"

"A souvenir from Kjala."   She regarded the shiny pink flesh of the scar and a 
memory flashed before her eyes.  She saw herself ripping the bottom of her 
robe and tying the cloth about her arm in a vain attempt to keep blood in 
and dirt out.  She hadn't had time to tend to her own wounds.  The scar was 
testimony to the fact that she had neglected herself until it was too late to 
heal her arm cleanly.

Different emotions wrestled for control of Dhyle's face.  Finally, he 
surrendered to that of defeat, sinking to his knees before Aeia.  "You have 
not deceived me.  Little Fedy never spoke again after Kjala, after his 
mother's death."  He drew in a shuddering breath, not looking at Aeia.  His 
eyes focused on some point beyond her in the room, but what he saw was a 
memory and not what was before him.  "He drew pictures instead of talking.  
Some of them were lovely, some...  hideous.  His own perceptions of his life, 
and Kjala in the middle of it.  But always there was a person, a person he 
never named, who figured in the pictures.  A person with blue and green 
bands on her arm, crossed by a line of red."  His eyes, penitent, raised to 
meet hers.  "You."

Aeia was silent.  What happened next rested in the Katryan's hands.

"I am at your command, Petryan," he said humbly.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Captain, there are five warships uncloaking in this area," said Data.

"Raise shields, and go to Red Alert."

"Sir," interjected Worf with surprise, "the warships are training their 
weapons on the Romulan vessel."

"Transporter Room to Bridge."

"Yes, O'Brien?" asked the Captain.

"I have Aeia back on board, Captain," the engineer responded.  After a brief 
pause, he added, "I think she needs medical assistance."

Picard did not have the chance to order Dr. Crusher to the Transporter Room 
before the CMO disappeared into the turbolift.

"Romulan vessel retreating from Federation space," reported Worf.

A wave of relief swept over the bridge.  The tension relaxed as people sighed 
and murmured in relief and surprise.

Worf spoke again: "One of the Katryan vessels is hailing us sir."

"Open a channel," commanded Picard.

"Channel open, sir."

"On screen."  Picard stood and tugged at the front of his uniform as the 
sturdy form of Dhyle once more commanded the bridge's viewscreen.  This 
time, however, he was surrounded by males and females of his own kind.

"The Petryan is safely aboard your vessel?" he asked curtly.

"Yes," answered Picard.  "I-"

The Katryan stopped the Federation captain with a wave of his hand.  
"Another time, human."  His image disappeared and black space once more 
filled the screen.  The five warships turned about and moved away, 
disappearing into the blackness.

There was an awkward moment of silence on the bridge.  Picard snapped 
about suddenly , barking a few orders to the helmsman.  This broke the 
spell, and everyone turned back to their posts in a bustle of nervous activity.  
Then he strode towards the turbolift, muttering about checking on Aeia's 
condition, and the bridge settled into routine operation.

On a fast-moving ship that was rapidly putting space between itself and the 
Enterprise, the young Katryan leader stood motionless on his bridge, weeping 
silently for the wound he had not yet given himself time to heal.  On the 
Enterprise, his tears were echoed across the face of a young woman who 
shared his pain, knowing that some wounds hurt deeper than the one that 
marked her arm.

--------------------------------------------------------

Deanna Troi entered the holodeck slowly, taking in the elaborate program 
that it was running.  The air was thick with a woodsy smell; the ground 
beneath her alternated between soft, sweet-smelling earth and dampened 
leaves.  A sun that was nearly set filtered goldness at a low angle through 
the wide green leaves that rustled gently in the warm breeze.  A small brook 
wound its way between earthen banks and bumped up against some rocks, 
forming a small pool before spilling over in a miniature waterfall.  A feature 
by the pool caught her by surprise; a honey-brown creature bent its head to 
the clear water and drank.  It was a unicorn, or, at least, Troi supposed it to 
be one.  Its features were equine, though by far no Earth equine had ever 
achieved the slender grace that stood here by the pool.  The horn that rose 
from its forehead was not curved but straight, faceted, and crystalline.  It 
filtered the slanted light of the setting sun, sending prisms onto the leaves 
on the ground near the bank.

Troi wondered about the unicorn; she had thought Aeia had been working on 
a program to accurately simulate her homeworld.  What place did an ancient 
Earth mythical creature have here?  "Aeia?" she called into the air, curious.  
She peered into the darkness beyond the stream, trying to see beyond the 
trees and locate Aeia.  There was no response.  The unicorn stopped drinking 
and raised its head slowly.  Dark eyes focused themselves in Troi's direction.

"Computer," commanded the Counselor.  "Please give Aeia's location with 
respect to my own."

"Aeia is not in the holodeck," responded the computer.

Troi frowned.  Geordi, who had been working most of the day on a panel just 
outside the door to this holodeck, had seen Aeia go in.  Besides, why would 
she have left the program running?  "Locate Aeia."

"Aeia is not on the Enterprise."

Troi was not prepared for that.  She gasped.

The unicorn left the side of the pool and began walking towards her with an 
easy gait.  Smooth muscles rippled with her movement under the silken 
hide.  "Computer," commanded Troi, "freeze program."

The scene instantly took on the unnatural freeze of a three-dimensional 
photograph.  The brook silenced, halted in its flow over the rocks.  The 
leaves were motionless, suddenly looking as brittle and hard as glass.  The 
breeze held itself in perfect stillness.

And the unicorn continued to advance.

*The ship's computer is not programmed to follow a lifeform whose body 
signature changes,* explained Aeia as she came to a stop before the 
Counselor.  The dark eyes, visibly blue in the slanted late-late-afternoon 
light that shone into them from the holodeck-generated sun, studied Troi's 
face with an intensity that was at once alarming and familiarly Aeia.  She 
blew a puff of air through her nose in a gesture distinctly similar to a laugh, 
and added, *My people have always been a little misunderstood, Deanna.  
The Katryans see us as saviors, and call us Petryans.  Other races have called 
us other things.  Some have labelled us as gods.  The human race labelled us 
'unicorns,' and made us magical.  Each kind has its own way of dealing with 
something it doesn't entirely understand.*  Her image blurred as was 
replaced by her human form, crouching naked in the wet leaves.  
"Computer," she spoke aloud as she rose to her two human feet, "resume 
program."

The brook stirred again into its gentle water-sounds.  Leaves halted in gentle 
movements completed them, and "reality" seemed restored to the scene.

Aeia smiled warmly at the Counselor.  Her long hair afforded her some, but 
not much, modesty across her otherwise bare front.  She seemed blissfully 
unaware of her nudity, turning to stride with confidence but no hurry 
towards where she had left her clothes.  She lifted up her oversized tunic, 
shrugging it over her slim form.

Troi summoned up some small talk to fill in the time Aeia would need to 
dress.  "I'm glad to see you're feeling well," she began.

Aeia's laughter trickled out through the sleeves of her garment before her 
head emerged from the top.  "You're trying too hard to be casual about my 
shape-changing," she said, pulling from her face the strands of hair that had 
been mussed by pulling her clothes down over her head.  "But I forgive you.  
Yes, I am feeling much stronger, thank you."

Troi settled herself on a large rock, staring off into the sunset which was now 
beginning.  "What are your plans now?" she queried.

Aeia settled into a patch of earth by Troi's feet, fixing her eyes on the same 
spectacle that now displayed itself in the 'distance.'  "We reach Starbase in 
one week," she answered.  "I have been requested to participate in the talks 
between the Federation and the Katryans in a month.  I will be assisting a 
Federation arbitrator to settle the differences between the Katryans and the 
F'korins."

"Do you think the Katryans will agree to join with the Federation?"

"They have no choice," Aeia replied matter-of-factly.  "They have made 
dangerous and powerful enemies of the Romulan Empire on their border."

"And then what?" prompted the Counselor.

Aeia was silent for some time.  "Starfleet," she said quietly.  Troi's response 
was a quick look of surprise, to which she replied, "I was the youngest 
Healer ever to achieve the distinctions I reached.  I am confident of my 
abilities; I can become a student again, and enter your Academy, and prove 
myself again."

"But why Starfleet?"

"I need to find those crystals.  Only the range and variable territory of a 
Starfleet vessel would be sufficient to aid me in my search."  Her face fell, 
obscuring her expression in the growing shadows.  "Besides, my people are 
gone, my world is gone.  My place is now in yours."  Her words were 
strained, harsh, but strong.

"You feel a need to belong to your new world," observed the Betazoid.

Aeia's face turned one of her piercing stares up at Troi.  "Wouldn't you, 
Counselor?"

Troi instantly regretted her instinctive counseling of the girl.  Aeia was not 
someone who needed to be told what she felt.  "Please.  I told you to call me 
Deanna."

Aeia's face softened.  She appreciated the feeling of equality expressed in the 
statement.  "We were many," she said gently.  There was grief in that simple 
sentence; she mourned for the lost presences that she had once never been 
without.  "Now I am one."  She silently remembered telling Dhyle: I am the 
one survivor of my people.

"No," said the Betazoid in the growing dusk.  Her hand found Aeia's and 
closed it in a firm grip.  "We are two."

Xref: sparky alt.startrek.creative:2950 rec.arts.startrek.misc:13472