Marooned - Christie Golden [92]
"Very good indeed," the Sshoush-shin leader replied with a trace of pride in his rumbling voice. "The sight of the sun seems to make almost everyone want to cooperate. The kakkiks have already given us much information about new crops to harvest, once we have tamed Mishkara. We do not know if our homeworld survived, and we may not know for a long time. But this, as you say, is our home now, and we will make it a happy one. We have much to thank you for."
He reached and rubbed her back in the gentle, circular motion she had come to enjoy. Janeway did the same to him, smiling up at the large creature at once so formidable and so benign. "We wouldn't have survived to help you had you not helped us first," she reminded him.
"A good lesson, and one we will teach the children."
Out of the corner of her eye, Janeway saw Kes's face grow sad at the word children. The captain was confused, but said nothing. "Kes, are you ready to leave?" she asked quietly.
"Just a moment, Captain." Kes smiled uncertainly, then went to Aren Yashar. For a long moment, the tiny woman gazed up at the former Ja'in leader, scrutinizing him in great detail. His mask stayed in place for a while, but at last, his expression changed.
Janeway was surprised to see genuine caring on his handsome face.
"This doesn't have to be a punishment," Kes said softly.
Aren laughed at that, a hard, unpleasant sound. "Doesn't it?"
"No, it doesn't," Kes said firmly. "For a long time, you've acted out of pain and anger, Aren. You hurt so badly, you wanted to hurt others, too. You wanted to drown the sorrow in pleasure, bury the anguish with riches and power. You wanted to tame your own fear by inspiring fear in others. And because of that, you have blood on your hands."
She reached out and touched the hands as she spoke, spread his fingers with her own small ones, stroked the beautiful, rainbow-hued webbing between them.
"Be proud of your wings," she said. Janeway was surprised. Those odd lumps on his back that Aren was so careful that no one saw-wings? "Let them remind you that once, your people could fly."
"No one will fly anymore," he said harshly, snatching his hand back and curling it into an angry, impotent fist.
"There may never be any more Rhulani children," Kes continued, relentless in her gentleness. "But there will be kakkik children, and Sshoush-shin children. They will remember, and pass those memories on to their own children. You would have gone down in history as an evil man, Aren. You have centuries left to undo that. And when someday the Rhulani are at last truly gone, those here on Mishkara may well speak of them as great allies, not great enemiesfriends who shared the wisdom of centuries. Memory is a powerful thing. Take it. Use it." She stroked his cheek softly. "Fly!"
Aren's throat worked, and his eyes grew bright. He turned away. Kes stepped back beside her captain. She stood straight, composed and dry eyed. "I'm ready now, Captain."
The last thing that Janeway saw as the world shimmered around them was Aren Yashar turning, for one last look, at the brief-lived being who had so radically changed his life.
The doors hissed softly as Captain Janeway entered the hydroponics bay.
She wasn't sure why she was here. She'd meant to go to her quarters, fortify herself with a cup of coffee, and begin writing the eulogy for poor Bokk. Instead, her feet had led her here, as if of their own volition.
Was it only nine days since she had stood here with Kes, chatting happily as the Ocampan exclaimed over the cymarri flower, pondering the delights in store for them on Oasis? It felt more like nine years. The trip to Oasis had taken its bitter toll.
And yet the cymarri flower was mute testimony to the brevity of the time. It was in full, proud bloom now. Janeway knew that in a day or two, it would start to fade, its radiant purple dimming to gray and then black. Its blooming period was brief indeed, and yet, for those