The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [91]
But that had changed now. Marriage had a way of turning your life about, so Mika’s sister Liso had said. Without noticing, Mika had grown connected, the need to wander that characterized her youth fading and a yearning for reconnection rising in its place.
She got a wary nod from Hectu, the Denobulan botanist who lived in the house just past the school; she was one of the few nonhumans in the township. The portly woman was, as ever, up to her arms in Dorvan’s powdery brown dirt, leafy plants in her big, thick-fingered hands. Mika didn’t stop to talk. It wasn’t that Hectu was bad company, but she had a tendency to make every issue into a drama, no matter how small—and with the current situation, a circumstance of real importance, Mika knew that she’d be listening to her fret for hours if she stopped to be polite.
The treaty announcement was all that anyone could talk about now, the shifting of ghostly and unreal borders on some computer-projected map of the galaxy, decisions made by unknown men on worlds orbiting stars so far away as to be invisible in Mika’s night sky. The talk was of lines of influence, demarcations between nation-states that were as removed from the township on Dorvan V as to be almost inconceivable. The settlement had existed on the fringes of human space for centuries, but because of the consequences of a slow-burning conflict that had never even touched their lives, the colonists awakened one day to learn their world had been ceded to alien control. Cardassia or Sol, Federation or Union—the name upon the territory where the Dorvan system lay was an abstract concept, not something that had a bearing on their everyday lives. Not until now.
The girl walked on, threading her way through the open paths between the adobe buildings. Here in the township proper, the sense of tension hanging over the community was more noticeable. As today had drawn closer, the laughter and freedom of the place had become less obvious, more forced. People were worried, and worried people stayed in their homes. They ruminated and let their thoughts turn to dark places. Last night, while her husband slept soundly beside her, Mika had heard raised voices from the house two doors down, an argument over something petty inflated by fears about other, deeper concerns. She looked up into the morning, saw the faint lights of the last bright stars of dawn. The starship would be coming soon.
“Hey, Mika.” The voice drew her attention and she turned as a friendly figure approached. He gave her an easy smile and she did her best to match it.
“Lakanta.” She nodded back. “You’re up early.”
“It’s going to be a long day,” he noted, without even the smallest hint of irony. He was quiet for a moment, and Mika knew he was trying to frame the question. She made a little wave with her hand.
“I’ve asked him,” she said. “He hasn’t given me an answer.”
A frown creased Lakanta’s pleasant, open face. “It’s…difficult for him,” he noted. “I don’t think the elders really understand that. They only see his connection, and—”
“His obligation,” she finished. Mika looked away. “Marriage makes him family and an extension of the tribe.”
“The nature of family often forces us to places we don’t want to visit,” he said quietly. “I do not envy him.”
Mika hesitated and gave Lakanta a long look. “They asked you to come speak with me, didn’t they?”
He nodded again. “Don’t think ill of the elders. They see your husband as the only line of resistance against the Starfleet people. Their fears are strong.”
“He’s just one man,” Mika retorted, more sharply than she wished. “He’s not a soldier or a diplomat.”
“He used to be one of them.”
She snorted. “He was never one of them. That’s why he chose to leave all that behind.”
A curious expression passed over Lakanta’s face, a peculiar look of knowing that seemed oddly alien. “Choices always return to us when we least expect them. The cost of them is never fully apparent at the time.” He blinked, and his manner changed again.