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Trima realized she was gaping at him. She closed her mouth and tried to summon outrage, but for a long few seconds she couldn't do it. To imagine a life where one chose one's destiny. One could embrace either extreme or a middle ground, living in an Alilann-like city with art on the metal walls, eating fresh foods but sleeping protected from the elements-it was a revelation.

He looked at her curiously, and finally she remembered who she was supposed to be. She frowned terribly and stood up quickly.

"You speak blasphemy, Tom Paris," she cried. She didn't have to feign the trembling that shook her body, but she hoped he attributed it to outrage. "But since you are still very much a Stranger, I will forgive you. Speak no more of this obscene blending of castes among die Sumar-ka." A thought struck her. "Since I am your spiritual advisor, you may speak of it to me. But to no one else, on pain of expulsion!"

He sobered at that. "I get it, Trima. Culil, I should say. Sorry to have offended you."

She turned her back to him, uncertain as to whether her shining eyes would give the lie to her words. "Go, now. We will speak further of this, in private."

She heard him walk to the door, heard it close behind him. Trima didn't move for a moment, then turned around. Yes, he was gone. She let out her breath in a rush and clapped a hand to her mouth. What he had said shook her to her very marrow. Could it really be so? Did his people truly live like this? She needed to hear more about it, and soon.

But in the meantime, she had duties to attend to. Trima went to a carved wooden chest, opened it, and removed the false bottom. There, looking spectacularly out of place, were five items. Two were communications devices they had found on the Strangers, which looked more like jewelry man technology. Two others were weapons, also recovered from Tom and Chakotay. These looked like the weapons they were. The fifth item was a small handheld communication device unlike the ones the two Federation representatives had carried. It sparkled in the shafts of sun that filtered through the shutters, and one corner of it pulsed bright green.

She removed it and checked for a message. There was one, short and to the point Yet another Culil in another village had died under mysterious circumstances. This made the sixth one in almost as many moon cycles.

And now, she was Culil. She sat the device on her lap, and began to manually enter a message-quick, efficient, full of detail, and to the point. As all her missives to the Alilann were.

Our Culil was found dead several days ago, a dear mark of a directed energy weapon on his chest. Fortunately, or unfortunately, whoever committed the atrocity was clever enough to cover his tracks. The Culil's domicile was filled with the smoke from the Sacred Plant, which was directly responsible for his death; the energy weapon was obviously set to only stun. No one in the village has noticed, though I think this alien Paris might suspect something.

Either that, or he or his companion Chakotay is the killer. Chakotay disappeared the night of Matroci's murder, which makes me very suspicious. They could be the ones killing the Culils, wandering from village to village, place to place. They had the weapons, though I think it odd that Chakotay and Tom would have been able to find where I had hidden them, used them, and then returned them.

You must let me know if Chakotay was Recovered or if he fled on his own. And if the former, then why did you not take Tom Paris? I am in danger now. Please advise.

Trima paused, then recklessly continued, voicing her emotions. They are only Culilann, but they are not beasts to be slaughtered so. Matroci was a voice of calm reason in this village, and his death is a setback for everything save an increase in hostilities. Was this authorized? I repeat, was this authorized? If not, and if Chakotay was indeed Recovered, then, Implementer, you have a rogue on your hands, and no one is safe.

Trima sighed, then tapped