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place. Her eyes widened when he mentioned Khala, but she remained silent until he had finished.

"I think that may be what's wrong with me," he said at last, draining his cup. "I think your planet has dark matter in it somewhere and it's starting to affect me. It may have already affected your contact people."

"It may be responsible for Matroci's murder," said Trima softly. "This is a frightening tale you weave, Tom Paris."

"If only it were just that-a tale. But it's the truth."

She gave him a cold look, as if doubting him, then smiled. Tom thought it was like the sun coming out from under a cloud, and that thought frightened him more than the thought of dark matter in his body. He was terribly afraid he was starting to fall for Trima. He really, really wished that Chakotay had been able to drag B'Elanna along with them through the portal. Tom was not particularly good at resisting temptation. He never had been.

"It would serve you nothing to make up so complicated a story," she said. "Of course I believe you. And you are right. Much as I hate to do this, it is clear to me that you are ill. Soliss has done wonders as a healer and I respect him, but I also respect the Alilann doctors and their science."

She rose and with a slight rustling of her long robes went to a carved wooden chest. Gracefully she opened it, and to Tom's surprise, removed a false bottom.

"Hey, my phaser and communicator!" he said, moving over to sit beside her. She hesitated, men slowly picked up his possessions and handed them to him.

"These do belong to you," she said. "Please, keep them concealed. We are not supposed to return technological devices to Strangers who become part of the village."

"Gotcha," said Paris, already in the process of hunting for a place in his clothes to secrete them.

"Your communication devices are quite beautiful," said Trima. "If any of the Sumar-ka saw them, they would be after a jeweler to make replicas for them."

Tom looked at her closely. Yes, it was definitely humor. He allowed himself a smile in return.

Trima removed another device. After all this time not seeing advanced technology, to Paris the thing looked dark, alien, and sinister in her hand. One corner of it blinked green.

Trima thumbed a control, then shook her head. "No" messages. I had hoped they would have left one. I check every night before bed, just in case."

She had been kneeling beside the chest. Now she ex-tended her legs, long and muscular, crossed them, and settled the device in her lap. Quickly, she tapped in a message. "There," she said.

"What did you say?"

"The Stranger Paris is ill. Send Recovery team as soon as possible. The Silent One."

"Short and sweet," said Paris, thinking that he'd war-ranted something a little more eloquent.

"Brevity is best," said Trima, seeming to agree with him.

A thought occurred to him. He reached into the chest, removed Chakotay's combadge, and handed it to Trima. "You should wear this," he said.

She recoiled, and again Paris felt a rush of sympathy for her. Part of her still reviled technology, even as she realized how useful it was.

"Listen, there is someone out there killing Culils," he said intently. "We don't know how high up this goes. It could be one person acting on his own or this could be the new, improved Alilann policy toward the Culilann. You've told me that you're only known as The Silent One. They don't know you're Trima, the Culil of Sumar-ka. Right now, you're in as much danger as Matroci was. At least if you have this hidden on you somewhere you'll be able to contact me if something happens."

She stared at the device, then slowly, reluctantly, closed her fingers around it. Paris felt a rush of relief.

"You too," she said. "If something happens and you need help-you can contact me."

"I couldn't," he replied. "The combadge makes kind of a chirping noise. It would give you away."

She lifted her chin and her eyes flashed. God, but she