Star Trek Voyager #20: Dark Matters #2: Ghost Dance by Christie Golden

Author:Christie Golden [Golden, Christie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780743422352
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Pocket Books/Star Trek
Published: 2002-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

Paris always hated it when he was sick or injured. He felt weak and frail, and his body wouldn't obey simple commands like stand or walk or don't throw up. And he had been very sick, and very badly injured, and his body had totally ignored any commands he'd been well enough to send it for far too long.

Soliss's staff was a thing of beauty and of great practicality. Having tried nearly every sport he'd ever heard of, Paris had done his share of hiking and knew the value of a good, solid staff. He curled his fingers around this one, stood as straight as his body would let him, and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as he followed Chakotay out the door. Soliss brought up the rear.

Two men with torches stood at attention outside the door. They turned as smartly as any Academy cadet to escort the two Strangers to the festivities. Paris sniffed the cool night air and caught a whiff of something delicious cooking. Some sort of meat, probably roasting on a spit or in an open pit. His mouth filled with saliva. For the first time in what seemed to be ages, he was very hungry.

The wonderful aromas grew stronger as they walked down the main thoroughfare to where the forested area began. Paris was feeling a bit wobbly again. He ordered his legs to continue to support him, and for the moment they obeyed.

Torches formed a corridor, showing where they should go. The drumming sound grew louder, competing with the other sounds of a jungle at night. They entered the brush, but the path had been meticulously cleared and Paris's unsteady feet didn't stumble. The path opened out into a large clearing.

At their appearance, the drumming stopped. Gathered in the clearing were about eighty people. Paris guessed it was the entire populace of this little village. They looked surreal in the moonlight, their pale blue skin and hair almost glowing. But the unearthly faces wore smiles of welcome.

A young man stepped forward. He seemed to be weighted down by the regalia of some important office, but his movements were smooth and elegant. He raised his arms and spoke first in his native tongue, then in Federation Standard for the benefit of the strangers.

"I, Matroci, the Culil of Sumar-ka, welcome the Strangers. It has been long since the Crafters have sent us new friends who will teach us; new students whom we may teach. We ask their forgiveness for the Ordeal. Know that it is part of our deepest tradition, and know that it was for protection only, and not done in a spirit of hostility."

Soliss leaned over and whispered, "You need to formally forgive us."

Chakotay spoke first. "I forgive Matroci, the Culil of Sumar-ka, and the good people of this village. We have survived your Ordeal and stand ready to befriend you."

He turned to Paris. Paris's tongue cleaved to his throat. He didn't really want to forgive these people in such a formal fashion.

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