• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Soliss smiled. "Nothing quite that extreme," he said, "but Ramma did come and see you. He's got a very accurate eye for such things."

Paris straggled with the clothing, needing some assistance, but eventually he was able to don it With his fair skin and blue eyes, he looked striking hi the deep purple-blue color. He stood unsteadily, and Soliss gave him a staff. It was made of light-colored wood, polished smooth as a river stone.

"This will help you walk without assistance," said Soliss. "You will not have to walk far."

"Which is a very good thing," said Paris, but he smiled. Chakotay was pleased. They were both well on their way to recovery. Soon, they'd have to think about a way to contact Voyager. Chakotay was surprised at how long it had been since the thought of his ship had crossed his mind. Several hours, at the very least. It wasn't paradise here on-whatever planet this was, but it did offer a leisurely pace and a great deal of beauty.

The suns had completely set, and Chakotay saw

shapes scurrying about outside, lighting torches and fires. He could hear their excited conversation and laughter, though he could not understand the words. Among themselves, the Culilann conversed in their own language. It was only to Tom and Chakotay that they spoke Federation Standard. Then, slowly, steadily, the drumming began, and a shudder of deep, primal recognition washed through him.

He knew that every culture on Earth used percussion in ritual at one time or another, depending on its stage of development. He had learned from both study and personal observation that nearly every alien culture that had a noticeable heartbeat also used drums. He was certain that was not a coincidence. Sometimes the drumming had died out; other times, it was part of deeply honored rituals that continued through the centuries. But always he had found that if a species had a heartbeat, it had drums in its blood if you searched far enough.

BOOM-boom-BOOM-boom-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-boom-BOOM-boom. He already felt his body wanting to move to the primal, steady rhythm. He, the "contrary" one, never at home in any one place. Too modern for the pace of his people, too locked into tradition for a Starship commander. It was no different here. He was moved by and responded to many of the traditions of the Culilann, appalled by others.

"Needs a little guitar or Harry's clarinet, but it'll do," said Tom, startling Chakotay out of his reverie.

"They are waiting for you," said Soliss.

"Then let's go," said Tom.

* * *

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