Dark Matters_ Ghost Dance (Book 2) - Christie Golden [31]
She was right She had been speaking Federation Standard the whole time. He'd been too out of it to notice. "That's incredible," he said. "Your people must have a gift for languages."
"The Grafters gave it to us," said Yulura. "It is so that we do not need to resort to the artificial contrivances of the Alilann. They would be able to learn as swiftly as we, as we are the same species. But they do not have the desire. They prefer everything to be immediate. They do not wish to take the time to learn a skill."
Chakotay thought back to what life must have been like without the universal translator, what an accomplishment simply learning another language used to be.
"We are both-" He had started to say "humanoid," but realized how Earth-centric the term was. "We are both bipedal and shaped much the same. Our mouths and throat structure are probably very similar. Can you learn the language of races more unlike yourself?"
"They take a little longer, but we can do it if we need to," said Soliss. He rose, carrying a bowl of steaming soup. Chakotay's mouth watered. Yurula helped prop him up with the pillows while Soliss handed him the bowl.
Yurula made as if to take the bowl and feed him, but he smiled and shook his head. "I can do it myself, thank you."
She nodded her blue-haired head in acknowledgment and rose gracefully. Chakotay guessed her age at about thirty or forty in human years. Yurula was not possessed of the youthful freshness of the girl who had found him and Tom, but she had a quiet beauty all her own.
Chakotay spooned up some soup, sipped cautiously, then began to eat with gusto. It was delicious. Plenty of fresh vegetables, rich broth, bits of meat of some sort. Normally he'd use his tricorder to make certain the food wasn't toxic to his system, but right now there was no choice: eat, or die. And if he died, at least his taste buds would have been placated.
He handed the empty bowl back to Yurula, who smiled at his appetite. "Would you like some more?"
"Yes, please. It's delicious."
"Before you have a second bowl," said Soliss, "please put these on. If my guess is right, we may have need of your bed soon."
"More injured?" Suddenly Chakotay wasn't hungry. He reached for the soft robe-like garment Soliss handed him, spun by Culilann hands, and slipped it over his head.
"No," said Soliss, chuckling. "A blessed event It is almost Winnif's time. I would not turn a sick man out of bed, Chakotay, but I'd want to make sure a woman giving birth has a comfortable place. If you will pardon me, I am going to see how she fares."
Chakotay found himself smiling. Life does go on, he thought. His mind went back to the last time he had seen his shipmates. Were they all right? Janeway had accepted the Shepherd's so-called quest to locate others and help them rid themselves of the deadly dark matter. Had they been successful? Were they able to utilize the alien technology, put it to work for a good cause? And what had they learned about Khala, the poor, misplaced Alilann? Had she told them about these craftsmen and farmers, healers and weavers?
Were they looking for him?
Would they find him?
He ate a second bowl of the delicious and no doubt nourishing soup. He had to get his strength up if he and Tom were to leave. Chakotay had not endured the Ordeal in a pleasant frame of mind, but he had known kindness at the hands of Yurula and Soliss, and he was not going to make a sweeping condemnation of these people. They had their own ways, and Chakotay respected that. Yet it was becoming increasingly clear to him that the only way he and Tom could hope to contact Voyager was to contact the Alilann first and make use of their technology.
He finished the soup, worked the soft robe about his frame, and swung his legs to the floor. The soles of his feet tingled, as if they had not touched earth in far too long. When