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By Root 963 0

one of the sleekest, prettiest little ships it had ever been Tom Paris's good fortune to see. She glistened and gleamed. Unlike the only other Verunan ship he'd seen, there was no hint of helter-skelter construction about this beauty. She had not only been lovingly built, it was clear that she'd been lovingly designed. A little bit larger than a standard Starfleet shuttlecraft, the ship reminded Paris of a small hawk, with angled wings that swept forward rather than back and a foresection that mimicked the sleek Verunan necks. Three mechanics worked on her at the present time, grasping strange-shaped equipment in their clever, dangerous-looking hands and wielding them with the languid grace of surgeons.

He ached to climb aboard and get his hands on her, see what she could do in open space. As he walked slowly up to her, his blue eyes hungrily taking in every curve and arc of the alien vessel, he began to think that the beleaguered Verunans might just have a chance after all.

"I will take you aboard Conviction in a moment. Be patient!"

Kaavi's voice held a chuckle, and when Paris tore his eyes off Conviction, he saw that the Verunan pilot held her head at an angle and her eyes crinkled. She was amused at his reaction.

"Let us briefly explain some other things first, yes?"

"All right," he replied, knowing that his voice gave away his reluctance. The three Verunans exchanged glances with the Voyager crew, and Tom knew they were sharing a joke at his enthusiasm. He didn't mind.

He and the others accompanied Anahu, who briskly stepped into the position of leader with an easy confidence Paris hadn't suspected, given his subservient demeanor on the planet's surface.

"For many thousands of years," Anahu began, "all this technology, given to us by the Ancestors, lay all but forgotten. We simply didn't need it. Veruna Four provided shelter, sustenance, beauty, and a chance to create art. But when we realized we had to defend ourselves against the Akerians, the elders remembered these places."

"What do you mean, remembered?" queried Chakotay.

"By and large, we are a verbal people," explained Nata. "We have a written language, but most of our histories are kept in the form of stories--memorized verbatim and kept intact through hundreds of years.

We went back over those tales to find the truths clothed in legend."

"Nata, I'm going to want to hear more of these tales," said Chakotay.

She smiled. "As many as your ears will bear, my friend."

"I've been taking some readings," said Torres. "There are trace materials in the stone of Veruna Four that effectively block sensors, which explains why we detected no trace of advanced technology."

"And more importantly," said Viha Nata, "the Akerians do not know we have these capabilities. They see only what we wish them to see: the simple life of a simple people. Even today, they saw a ship that was a combination of many different technologies. We do not yet have the Guardian ships"--she gestured to Conviction--"fully functional."

"Anahu, you and Kaavi seem to be more comfortable here than above ground," said Chakotay. "Do you reject the simpler life that exists on the surface?"

"Not at all," replied Anahu, stepping up to a huge, complicated machine that took up several meters of the cavern's wall space.

"We stay below, rediscovering what we can, in order to attempt to save that lifestyle. Kaavi and I had parents who researched this; they trained us to love the feel of metal and understand technology, much the way Viha Nata trained her children to love the smell of the ichaki flower and understand the turning of the seasons. But I fear that time may be running out."

His long, clawed fingers moved rapidly over the computer. An image sprang to life on the meterwide screen that was located at eye level for the Verunans. Paris tilted his head back and took a step away so he could see it better.

A complicated array of figures and graphs filled the screen. "We have been analyzing the effects of SunEater on our