Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [48]
Speaking softly, Lauren said only, “These are my pipes,” and B’Elanna was surprised by the tiny crack in the girl’s voice. When she made a tiny adjustment, the pipes released a sound that was something between a honk and a purr. “They’re new so I don’t know them well yet.” She bobbed her head, then continued, “I’d just like to apologize to my neighbors who have had to listen to me practice the past few nights.” Laughter. B’Elanna found herself smiling against her will. “And especially to Michael who had to sleep down the hall. Sorry, sweetie.”
Another small adjustment produced a plaintive, strangled blurt, then Lauren continued, “This is a song we used to sing back home. I’m going to do the opening and then, well, then I’ll do the rest. Usually someone else would play while someone sang, but since there aren’t any other pipers here…” She scanned the audience. “Are there?” No one responded. “All right, then,” she continued, then took the mouthpiece between her lips and set her fingers on the chanter. “If you want to,” Lauren finished, talking around the mouthpiece, “you can sing along with the chorus. That’s the part that comes around more than once.”
B’Elanna had, of course, seen pictures of bagpipes before and had even heard recordings of them, but she was unprepared for the explosion of sound released when the petite Lauren blew into the reed and began to squeeze the bag. The sound was at once civilized and primal, sonorous and chaotic. It made B’Elanna’s eardrums ache and her eyeballs vibrate. Under the shrill drone, Lauren began to pick out a tune that was both mournful and cheery. When it came to an end, the girl let the bag swing to her side, inhaled deeply and sang in a high, sweet voice:
Ev’ry road thro’ life is a long, long road,
Fill’d with joys and sorrows too,
As you journey on how your heart will yearn
For the things most dear to you.
With wealth and love ‘tis so,
But onward we must go.
Keep right on to the end of the road,
Keep right on to the end,
Tho’ the way be long, let your heart be strong,
Keep right on round the bend.
Tho’ you’re tired and weary still journey on,
Till you come to your happy abode,
Where all the love you’ve been dreaming of
Will be there at the end of the road.
With a big stout heart to a long steep hill,
We may get there with a smile,
With a good kind thought and an end in view,
We may cut short many a mile.
So let courage ev’ry day
Be your guiding star alway.
Keep right on to the end of the road,
Keep right on to the end,
Tho’ the way be long, let your heart be strong,
Keep right on round the bend.
And, with the final repetition of the chorus, many of the audience did join in, not without some stumbling and a sour note or two. The captain-still dressed in her dance costume-surprised everyone by repeating the final line one last time solo, but her clear, strong voice easily filled the holodeck and when she finished the entire room broke into applause. From her vantage point, B’Elanna witnessed more than a few tears wiped from the corners of more than a few eyes.
With the show now officially concluded, the house lights came up and the performers and audiences mingled to exchange congratulations and exclamations of pleasure. B’Elanna turned off her spotlight and watched as the crowd moved in complex Brownian waves back and forth across the floor, first stopping to pay homage to one, then another actor or singer or dancer. She was gratified to see Harry and Neelix both get many pats on the back and even found herself smiling when someone-presumably Michael-grabbed Lauren MacTaggart and swept both her and her bagpipes into an embrace. The only person she didn’t see was Tom Paris. His absence puzzled her, but not as much as the fact that she was disappointed he had disappeared. She felt like she wanted to say something to Tom, thought she wasn’t certain precisely what that would be.
Only after the last performer and spectator had walked out did Tom feel it was safe to emerge from his hiding place under the spotlight platform. He had just