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"What a jerk," said Torres, with feeling. "We're working around the clock here to help him out and that's the best he can do?"

"He's been following the captain around ever since we beamed him over, yelling at her to hurry up, make everything all right again. Frankly, I'm going to be delighted when we see the last of the Kwaisi."

Torres took a big bite of her corned-beef sandwich and wiped her mouth. "I don't know. Some of them have been very cooperative and polite. It may just be Ulaahn. Can't make snap judgments about a whole species based on a single individual, Harry. You know that"

Which was apparently the wrong thing to say. Harry froze in mid-chew. He deliberately swallowed the bite, folded his napkin, and rose. He was only halfway through his meal.

Torres mentally kicked herself. She reached out and gently closed her hand around his wrist. "Neelix worked hard on making that Szechwan yruss-aad-broccoli for you, Harry. Go ahead and finish it."

"I've lost my appetite."

"Then I'll have some," she said casually, leaning over the table to spear up a slice of surprisingly tasty yruss. She knew this bothered Harry and was pleased when he frowned and said, "Hey, cut it out"

Smiling, she popped the bite in her mouth and chewed. "Mmm. I may have to have some of that

next time he makes it. So come on, Harry, what's wrong? I know you're interested in Khala, and while I admit she's got some strange food preferences, she seems nice enough. She certainly seems interested in you."

"Seems is the operative word," said Harry, pitching his voice soft. He looked around to make sure there was no one close enough to overhear. "I just don't get this whole caste system her people have. It seems so odd, so arbitrary."

"Come on, Starfleet, we've encountered odder customs before. This whole journey has been an exercise in cultural appreciation. Remember the Ka-rakish? The ones with the-"

"Okay, okay," he said, laughing a little now. His cheeks were red. Torres grinned and picked up her sandwich. "If she were just a guest on the ship, it'd be one thing. But we don't know how long she's going to be here, B'Elanna. And she's more than just another visitor to the ship. I really care about her. And she-she can't understand me at all."

Torres thought about how Khala brightened every time Harry dropped by engineering. She thought about the conversation she'd accidentally overheard, when Khala had shyly asked Seven about appropriate dress for her dinner with Harry. She thought about how often poor Kim had gotten his heart broken and how nice it would be to see him with someone who might actually be worthy of him.

"What doesn't she understand?" she asked, very gently.

Harry glanced down at his hands for a moment,

then up at Torres. "My music. She didn't even know what it was when I talked about it."

"Did you play for her?"

Miserably, he nodded. "I wish I hadn't. B'Elanna, you wouldn't believe it. She got this look on her face like she was going to be sick. And that's what she called it. Sick. Wrong. And then she just walked out."

Torres was horrified. "Harry, I'm so sorry. Seems like we have two alien jerks on this vessel."

He shook his dark head. "No, no, she wasn't trying to be mean. She was crying when she left. But I can't avoid her. She's here for who knows how long. And she thinks my favorite thing in the world to do is sick." He managed a wan smile. 'Tom was right. I sure can pick them, can't I? Thanks for lunch, B'Elanna, and... for talking with me. Sorry I couldn't enjoy it more."

This time, she didn't try to stop him.

INTERLUDE

THIS TIME IT WAS NOT A PLANET, BUT A SHIP THAT CALLED

to the Entity. And this time, the Entity knew it knew those who crewed it.

Kazan.

They had once been slaves until they had overthrown their cruel masters, the Trabe. They had scattered the Trabe throughout the quadrant, but centuries of squabbling among themselves had prevented