Celebrations: The Prixin Logs
Compiled and Edited by: CyberMum

Prixin, Day 5

"I thought you might be out here, Icheb. I've been looking for you."

"I'm sorry, Naomi, I didn't know. Would you like to join me?" He grinned down at her. Icheb was perched about a meter above her, on a large outcropping of rock set into the hillside above his tent. He had discovered 'his spot' shortly after Voyager had landed on New Hope and had immediately claimed it as his own. Naomi had started calling it "Icheb's Cliff" and most of the crew had followed suit. He could often be found there, especially in the evenings. His evident delight in the beauty of his surroundings had resulted in a fair bit of ribbing, particularly by Tom Paris, but even being called "Nature Boy" hadn't dissuaded him. In fact he had been surprised to find that he rather liked the attention and the gentle teasing - it made him feel very much a part of Voyager's family - something that had been a long time coming. "Come up Naomi," he repeated. He patted a space beside him. "The rock is still warm from the day's sun. And the stars are beautiful tonight."

Naomi scrambled up the side of the outcrop, refusing his outstretched hand. She'd had a fair bit of climbing practice by now, and knew just where the footholds were. She settled in beside him and gazed up at the sparkling sky.

"You're right Icheb," she acknowledged. "It's beautiful."

"Last night Lieutenant Tuvok gave me a book filled with charts and descriptions of the Terran constellations as a Prixin gift. It contains a great many details about each of them including the legends associated with each one. Some of them are quite interesting Naomi. Sea monsters, dragons and flying equines."

"Flying equines?"

He paused for a moment as he remembered what he had read. "I believe the name was Pegasus," he said. "And it sprang from the neck of Medusa. A Gorgon." He explained when Naomi looked at him in askance.

"A Gorgon?" She repeated. "Medusa? They sound like Delta Quadrant species to me. Maybe we should make up legends about the stars above New Hope," Naomi suggested.

Icheb looked at her in surprise. "Tuvok recommended I do that too. There is a place in the back of the book for notes," he added. "We could write our own chapter."

"Let's start with that one," Naomi pointed at a shimmering cluster of stars almost directly above them. "What shall we call it?"

"I've already thought of a name for that one." Icheb told her. "Do you see how closely the stars are aligned?" he continued. "Yet I can see each star clearly. They are individuals, but together they are the brightest constellation in the sky."

"Yes...I see that," she responded quietly.

"Voyager." His voice was a whisper. "I call that constellation Voyager."

A comfortable silence rose between them as they both turned their full attention to the skies above.

Personal Log: Icheb, Cadet Star Fleet Academy, Stardate 55007

I have enjoyed Prixin this year. In past years I have been...uncomfortable during the celebrations, but this year I am not. When I told Naomi how I am feeling, she said it is because I am learning to have fun. Perhaps she is correct. Certainly last night would fall into the category of fun. Lieutenant Kim was in charge of the evening. He and his musicians greeted everyone as they arrived with a musical salute. I remember Lieutenant Paris' was "Fly me to the Moon" and Neelix' was "A Taste of Honey". Mine was "Climb Every Mountain". Lieutenant Kim explained them all when he began the evening ceremonies.

I sat with Naomi and her mother, and with Lieutenant Paris - I mean Tom- he has asked me to call him Tom - and Lieutenant Torres - B'Elanna - and Miral. The infant attracted much attention and Lieut...Tom is very proud of her. I believe she is considered quite beautiful, although I'm not sure why at this point. She is very small and can be quite odiferous at times. She can also produce sounds that are in volume no way related to her size. However Naomi has informed me that she is a superb specimen and that she will no doubt 'grow on me'.

We all gathered around Neelix' buffet as the Captain lit the blue Candle of Gratitude. As she lit it, she asked us to think of members of our Voyager family who have touched us this year. Of course I thought immediately of Naomi. But I also thought of Tom Paris and his family. They have shown me so much kindness and attention and I am grateful for it.

The music started playing before we had finished our meal. Lieutenant Kim called on members of the senior staff to begin the dancing. Although the captain protested that she hadn't danced in a long time, Commander Chakotay stood in front of her chair and told her he wouldn't move until she complied and asked her "what about the swan". She said that didn't count but he said that since she had gotten him to sing on the first night, she owed him. The rest of the crew began to applaud and finally the captain stood up, bowed to the room and said "uncle", which Ensign Wildman explained to me meant that she would dance with him. Lieutenant Kim and his musicians started to play some very unusual music, very quickly. Tom told me it is called "The Beer Barrel Polka". The Captain started to laugh and took a long drink from her goblet, which B'Elanna said she thought contained real Antarian cider. I did not say anything, of course, but I know it's entirely possible she was right.

Almost everyone danced. Lieutenant Tuvok could not be convinced to try, although even the Captain attempted to persuade him. I offered to hold Miral while Lieut...Tom and B'Elanna joined in, but they declined my offer and showed me how the baby's carrier could be adapted to allow them to participate. Naomi insisted I accompany her onto the dance floor, and I did. I must admit that at first I was nervous, but in the end I found the dancing to be most enjoyable. I noticed quickly that there are no set rules to this sort of communal dancing - everyone seems to move to their own rhythm with their own style. It was almost exhilarating. I danced with Naomi, with B'Elanna and with Ensign Gilmore.

There were many gifts exchanged tonight, but Lieutenant Kim's was the most unusual, I think. His gift to Ensign Gilmore was a hard sided helmet and a song that he and his musical ensemble played at the end of the evening. He explained that he had written it especially for her; that he was going to pipe it through the communications system each time she was assigned to an away team; and that he hoped each time she heard it she would remember to wear her 'away mission gear'.

My gift to Naomi was a replicated copy of a novel from the 19th century, called "Little Men". She seemed to be very pleased with my selection. I know that she has read another volume by the same author several times. Naomi gave me a shell that she collected on the shores of the Narcan Vol Ocean. She and her mother visited there several years ago, and I know that trip was very special to both of them. When I unwrapped the gift, Ensign Wildman explained to me that expedition was the first time Naomi had ever been off of Voyager. I will treasure it.

End log.

Day 6 (pre-evening events)

Captain's personal log Stardate 55008.9.

We have now moved well past the midpoint of the Prixin holiday. I've always admired the subtle shift from focusing on the past to the present and then onward to the future. Secure in the knowledge of being in the arms of 'family', wrapped up in the comfort of their love, everyone is looking forward with joy, knowing that tomorrow will only bring better than today. This spirit of optimism is one of the things I admire most about this celebration Neelix has introduced us to, perhaps because there are times I find it sorely lacking in myself.

But a captain isn't supposed to feel that way. I'm supposed to be looking bravely ahead, reminding myself and my crew how truly lucky we are. It's my job to reassure them that our future is indeed bright. We may not get home as quickly as we had originally anticipated, but even without transwarp, it's not going to take us more than another decade. Barring major disaster, that is. And even I don't dwell on *that* possibility for more than a few moments in the deepest part of the night.

Somehow, more than any other year, Prixin and its meaning are weighing heavily on my mind. Perhaps because this is the first time we've been planetbound for such an extended period. It was late summer when we landed on New Hope; now the crisp days of fall are rapidly taking on the chill of winter. It's been so long since I spent enough time on a planet to actually be affected by the seasonal swings. Although there was a point early in the journey when I did spend a few months planet-side, living a life wholly separate from Voyager-when Chakotay and I were together on New Earth. We thought it was going to be for the rest of our lives. But of course, it wasn't. No more than those weeks on Gunrath'u were...

I've spent more than half my life on board starships, have gotten used to artificial light and re-circulated air as the norm. Fresh air, cool breezes...that's what you get while you're on leave. Natural sunshine is a luxury, and frankly, with my complexion and tendency to burn, not one I ever felt much in need of. Or so I thought.

Earlier today, toward late afternoon, I was seized with the sudden desire to go outside the ship, get a breath of air. After a word to Tuvok, I grabbed my heavier jacket-once the sun begins to go down the temperature drops pretty rapidly-and slipped out the hatch. I walked a few paces away from the ship, till I was out from under its shadow. I leaned my head back and felt the warmth of the sun on my face.

It's a common fallacy among 'Grounders'-humans who've never been out of Earth's own solar system-that a Class M designation for a planet is the same as saying it's 'Earth-like.' What the term really means is there is an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and the median temperature range falls between minus 50 and plus 60. There are no guarantees that the flora and fauna will be anything that remotely resembles the Terran varieties. In my time I have been on many alien worlds, some more or less like the planet of my birth, others vastly different. But only once before in the Delta Quadrant have I stood on the surface of a world that felt so strongly like home...

The New Hope sky was a delicate apple-green, with just a few wisps of clouds. I headed off toward the nearby copse of trees, no real destination in mind, other than to stretch my legs for a bit. The tall trunks loomed overhead, the deep whorls on the bark of the *alon* trees looking like runes carved in a mysterious alien tongue. A bird sang out overhead, and within a few seconds it flashed into view, its mauve feathers touched with gold where the light hit. It alit on a nearby branch, using its prehensile tail as well as its tri-clawed feet. It gave me an almost amused glance before breaking into another song. These *tziporim*, as the Vordai call them, remind me a little of the Terran mockingbirds, but have a broader range and an even more impressive repertoire. I listened as the music came to a halt, and then suddenly the creature rose into the air once more.

I rushed after it, into the heart of the forest. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, yet was vaguely aware I was moving farther away from Voyager. An occasional flash of purple and rose, once a silky feather floating gently down on the mossy trail, were my only indications that I was following in the right direction. And then with a burst of song more beautiful than any I'd yet heard, just when I was sure I'd finally found it, the bird seemed to vanish completely.

I dropped to my knees, suddenly weary. Without quite understanding why, I was overcome with a sense of overwhelming loss, and sadness. I took a deep breath. It was just the stress of the repair efforts, I told myself. And the memories evoked by the Days of Remembrance, and of the Honoring. Remembering those of my crew I'd lost, who'd died because *I* couldn't save them. And at that my resolve broke, and I threw myself down and cried.

I don't know how long I lay there among the fallen leaves. After a while the tears began to slow, and I felt a curious sense of relief. Maybe I'd just needed the release, had kept these emotions bottled up inside me for too long. I started to rise, and then I noticed something off to the side of the path, which I hadn't been aware of before. I moved a bit closer. It was a slender tree, its stature smaller, its color lighter, than any of those around it. And at its base there was a cluster of flowers.

Their petals were a blazing yellow, with an edging of red. I'd seen them somewhere before-the aeroponics bay perhaps?-and then it hit me. They were marigolds. The same flowers as in the jewelry Chakotay gave me two nights ago, before the dance.

It sounds strange to say these words even to myself, but at that moment, I had a sudden epiphany. That instead of spending the rest of my life regretting the past and worrying about the future, of dwelling on everything I'd lost-it was time I started learning to enjoy the present, to appreciate what I have now. And I do have so very much, perhaps much more than I deserve-something so precious I can no longer afford to keep pushing it away. To keep pushing him away.

For seven long years, I've been acting as though I could show the breadth of my commitment to my crew and ship by the depth of my own unhappiness. So wrong, and so unnecessary. It's time for a change.

End log.

Janeway took one last look at herself in the mirror. At the blue tunic and leggings, the only ornament the silvery combadge. She frowned, and then picked up the soft pouch that lay on her dresser. She opened it and gently shook out its contents into her hand, admiring the vibrant colors and exquisite workmanship of the jewelry once more.

She carefully fastened the clasp of the necklace and slipped on the earrings. Picking up her hairbrush, she smoothed her hair back and off her face, working the shoulder length strands into a soft knot caught at the nape of her neck. She smiled as the dancing earrings, now fully visible, caught the light. Tonight marked the beginning of the Days of Anticipation. She had some anticipating of her own for the evening-the look on Chakotay's face when she told him that the seed they'd planted in their Lotos Days had indeed come to fruition.

Personal Log: Noah Lessing, 6th Day of Prixin, Stardate: 55010

"It's hard to believe the difference between this Prixin and last year. Last year, they started talking about Prixin like we should know what it was, and of course we had no idea. We'd been on the ship about five months but we still were on the fringe of things. I remember standing between Marla and Jim during the Convocation ceremony and feeling like a Vulcan at a Christmas dance, wondering what all the fuss was and not knowing the proper steps. It didn't help that the crew wasn't exactly ready to welcome the five of us from the Equinox into the family fold. And if the Convocation was awkward, it was nothing compared to the Days of Remembrance. The recitation of the eleven who died because of us was almost unbearable. We didn't show up for the next three nights.

"Joe Carey talked me into going to the Sixth Day celebration though. 'It's about the kids,' he told me, and I went even though I was uncertain of my reception. The atmosphere that night was different, though. It was a smaller crowd, mostly those who had children back in the Alpha Quadrant, and they were relaxed and happy. There's nothing quite like a lot of parents, sitting around to swap baby stories.

When it was my turn, I told them about Hannah. I told them the mailbox story, from when she was not quite three years old. 'My wife Virginia loves antiques,' I said, "and she found an old wooden mailbox at a flea market some place. Do you know what a mail box is? It stands on a post about three feet high and has a small door in the front, where paper letters were delivered. It was Ginny's pride and joy. She painted flowers on the thing and had me dig a post hole at the end of the driveway so it could sit just where it would have two centuries ago, when mail was delivered by hand. I guess that post hole wasn't as good as I thought, though, because one day I was mowing the lawn and bumped up against that mailbox with the mower, and it just toppled over and smashed into pieces when it hit the pavement. Turns out Hannah was watching the whole thing from the window. 'Daddy went vroom,' she told Ginny, 'and the mailbox went crack. It was a sad day for the mailbox.'"

"Everyone laughed. I passed around a picture of my girl, and looked at everyone else's pictures. We hadn't received any mail from home yet so everyone's pictures were old. We all tried to imagine how the children had changed. It was the first time I felt that, perhaps, I could fit in on this ship, some day.

"I thought about not going tonight, but I had a new picture of Hannah to show everyone. She's ten years old now, and so grown up. Looks a lot like Ginny. I passed it around and looked at all the others. I told them that Hannah has a new name now and is living with her mother and her new father on Luna Colony. I didn't tell them that I am grateful for that, because if we make it home she won't have to explain to her friends and schoolmates why her daddy is probably going to prison.

"So I had a good time tonight. Mike Ayala had a picture of his son, and if ever a man was about to burst with pride, it was him. There was a picture of him with Joe Carey's boys, playing soccer together. Commander Tuvok had pictures of his grandchildren. It's hard to think of him as a grandfather. You'd think that talking about our kids when we're so far from them would make us sad, but somehow sharing these stories and pictures makes them seem closer.

"And Hannah will always be my little girl. My connection to the future. No matter what else happens, that's something I'll always celebrate."