Dark Matters_ Shadow of Heaven (Book 3) - Christie Golden [3]
"Some water," said Trima, handing him the cup. She waved a slender hand, indicating a bowl piled high with colorful fruit. "Please, partake if you are hungry."
"Thank you," said Paris. "This is beautiful. Nice place you got here."
"It is not mine. It belongs to the Culil of Sumar-ka."
He regarded her with steady blue eyes. "But you are the Culil of Sumar-ka. And unless I misunderstood what Soliss told me, you will be Culil for the rest of your life."
"Yes," she said, "but these are for the position of the Culil, not for me personally."
He shrugged broad shoulders. "Same difference."
The contradictory words baffled her. "What? Perhaps I do not understand your language as well as I thought."
He grinned, flashing white teeth. "Earth phrase, forget about it. What I'm getting at is, since you are the Culil, you get to enjoy these nice things, whether or not they're meant for Trima. It's a nice perk."
She nodded, regretting her impulse to ask him to stay. She was learning nothing, and he was making her feel uncomfortable.
"Do you think that is wrong?"
"Not my place to argue against the tradition of the Culilann. If they want to make their Culil comfortable, good for them."
"You are a Culilann now," she reminded him.
"Oh, no," he said. "I'm an honorary member of the village, but I'll have to get back to my ship one of these days, soon as I can figure out how."
Good, he had given her an opening. 'Tell me about your ship," said Trima.
The blue eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know about it? No one has ever expressed any curiosity about it before. Soliss said that it didn't matter where I came from, only that I was here now."
Trima thought fast. "That is true," she said. "But now that Chakotay is gone, I thought you might be feeling a little lonely and pining for your home, since you have no one to talk about it with. And as Culil, it is my duty to offer comfort."
He relaxed. "Well, you're right. I do miss it. I guess I have two homes-my real home, Earth, where I was born, and Voyager. It's become kind of a home for me as well. And the people there are just like family. Better than family, in some cases."
Trima poured herself some water and indicated that Tom should sit. He sank down among the cushions. She sat across from him, demurely arranging her robes. She listened while he spoke. She had the feeling that he had not come here to do that, but now that he had an audience, he was unable to stop the words from spilling out.
He spoke of a "star ship," a vessel that could cross light-years. Of a home farther away, he said, than she could possibly imagine, though he was wrong about that. Of visiting so many alien races that her head spun. Of instruments that replicated food, others that shot like an arrow from a bow.
"So," she said at one point in a stem voice, "you are like the Alilann. You value only technology."
"That's not quite true," he said, and then proceeded to utterly confuse her by telling her of a friend who loved to make music, of a place called Sandrine's where one danced, of a captain who was a scientist but who loved to paint, of a funny alien named Neelix who reveled in preparing fresh-grown food.
Trima stared, completely taken aback. For her, it was a new sensation. Little startled her, but this-
"How do you do it?" she demanded. "How can you integrate both castes like that?"
"Because we don't have a caste system," he said. "If your planet is a member of the United Federation of Planets, you can partake as little or as much of technology as you like. For example, Chakotay's family was pretty traditional. They grew a lot of their own food and didn't really avail themselves of all the technology they could have. I grew up in a family that was very involved with Starfleet, so my experience was almost the opposite. But even I appreciate a home-cooked meal or skill