Pathways - Jeri Taylor [149]
It was also during this time that the dark specter of conflict began rumbling through Talax. People began speaking more and more about the Haakonians. Neelix had learned that the Talaxians had successfully battled this warlike species more than a century before. The rulers of Haakon, after a decades-long attempt to subjugate Talax and its moon, had withdrawn in ignominy and chosen to vent their aggressions against other, less tenacious people. For generations, Talax had known only peace.
Now there were disquieting rumors that Haakon planned to move once again against Talax. Neelix had heard these murmurings for the first time when his father had taken him to the weapons range three years before; now, the murmurs had become a constant babble. Haakon was arming a huge fleet. Haakon would mount a surprise attack against Rinax. Haakon wanted to turn Talax into a huge penal colony. The specifics differed, but no one seemed to disagree that something dire was looming.
What to do about that something dire was another matter entirely. There was sharp disagreement among the members of government—and among the citizenry—about the proper way to deal with the prospect of invasion. Some favored an immediate aggressive stance, the creation of armed forces, and the conversion to a military society.
Others felt that only the maintenance of a peaceful and nonthreatening posture could dissuade the Haakonians. And there were moderates—among whom was Neelix’s father—who felt that Talax should adopt no overt or militant strategy, but must quietly develop armed forces for defensive purposes.
Neelix found the entire prospect unsavory. He knew he should take a position, as a man was expected to do, but he found himself recoiling from the hideous idea of war. He had never experienced it, but in his readings on weaponry he had learned enough about it to know he wanted no part of it. And yet, if Talax were invaded, would it not be his responsibility to help defend their way of life?
He thought longingly of his childhood, when such decisions weren’t called for and his fantasies of the exploits of Prince Morax were as close as he ever needed to come to warfare. He began to wish he were still a child, protected from harsh reality and nestled in the bosom of love.
He decided to visit his hut.
He packed a hamper with trove bars and iced neth, recalling wistfully the excursions he used to take with Alixia. Alixia was mated now, as were Raxel and Mixin; all three had chosen partners within the same year, and then decided to join in a triple mating ceremony. He missed Alixia deeply, but when he thought of Vaxi, he understood her happiness and didn’t begrudge her.
He took his hovercraft into the woods and immediately felt a sense of well-being settle over him. The dusky aroma of damp leaves was perfume to him, and made him feel eight years old again, tagging along behind Alixia as they explored.
He drove slowly, savoring the woodlands, the hovercraft skimming silently over the forest floor, a moist breeze cooling his skin. He would refurbish the hut and begin visiting it once more. Next year he would have to attend school on Talax, so he’d best get some use out of his old retreat before then. The prospect was calming.
In his vehicle, he covered the terrain quickly. Why hadn’t he bothered to come here since he’d gotten the craft? Neelix shook his head ruefully. As soon as he had the means to travel swiftly—which was why he’d wanted the vehicle in the first place—he’d stopped exploring.
He’d begun exploring Vaxi, instead, and while he certainly had no regrets about that adventure, he was sorry he’d given up his sorties into the woods. There was continuity here, a pattern that comforted. These woods were devoid of uncertainty.
Ahead, he spotted the clearing. As he neared it, he realized his vision of the neglected hut was accurate: brushy growth had overtaken the clearing and surrounded the small structure; copious vines had crept up its walls and laced an errant design on the roof. The windows were all but covered with leafy