"Father I want a tattoo."
Chakotay was glad he had only been sanding. Even so, he'd nearly sanded the skin off his index finger when Amal had made his announcement in front of his work bench.
"What?" he spluttered. "Where?"
"On my face," Amal answered confusedly. "Like yours."
Chakotay breathed a quick sigh of relief. He should have guessed.
"Tattoos are pretty permanent," he replied, "and people change their minds all the time, even when we get old. It needs to mean something to you. You need to understand it."
"I understand it," Amal insisted a little petulantly, although even he heard how young his voice sounded when he said it. "You wear it to honor your father. He had it to honor the sky spirits who honored the land."
"Yes. That's why we have the tattoo, but what does it mean to you?"
Amal's mouth opened and closed as he searched for an answer.
"Perhaps that question was unfair," smiled Chakotay gently. "I haven't shown you enough yet. Come with me."
It was a warm day, though cloudy now for Amal and Chakotay's walk to the rocks by the river. A few drops of drizzle hit them in the face as they went but it would be at least an hour before it began raining. Amal loved the weather when it was like this and he especially loved the rain when it was warm enough to run in it. The sharp smell of the native fruit trees was in the air too. It became more pungent the more humid it got. Amal breathed it in and smiled, realizing how much he really did love his home. He could hear monkeys in the trees too though he was sure Pete wasn't with them. They each had their own chatter if you listened close enough. He longed to try to call one of them but they had other business and he sped up his pace to catch up to his father.
When they got to the rocks, Chakotay and Amal knelt across from each other and Chakotay spread out his medicine bundle between them. Amal looked down at the objects. He passed over the akoonah and ran his fingers in the smooth grooves of the chamusi carved on the river rock. The black bird's wing struck him as oddly dark but not out of place and when he got to the shell he picked it up to examine it further.
"This is mother," he said.
"It is," replied Chakotay. "She is a part of me and therefore needs to be represented in my bundle. In time you will build your own but mine will work for now."
"What goes in mine?"
"Whatever you want. They should be things that have meaning to you, though. It should be a representation of you. Your medicine bundle is a way of introducing yourself to your spirit guide. Now, place your hand on the akoonah, close your eyes, and repeat after me: Akoochimoya."
"Akoochimoya."
"We are far from the sacred places of our grandfathers."
"We are far from the sacred places of our grandfathers."
"We are far from the bones of our people."
"We are far from the bones of our people."
"But perhaps there is one powerful being who will embrace this man and give him the answers he seeks."
"But perhaps there is one powerful being who will embrace this man and give him the answers he seeks."
Amal could feel himself slowly drift out of himself but he kept his eyes closed. His breathing became deeper and more exacting as if something would not let him stop inhaling until he had the precise amount of air. Then exhale the same way and inhale one more time, but the air now smelled different; more pungent. The sharp smell from the fruit trees was still present only more present if that were possible. He seemed to relish it more. A faint wisp of salt air went by him too but it was illusive after that. The thought that he would like to see the ocean flitted through his mind almost as quickly.
Amal took a few more of the deep breaths and then opened his eyes. He was in his woods but not. Everything he loved about his home seemed to be gathered in one place. His house was behind him with Kolo and his favorite climbing tree just in front. Only a little further on was the landing at their cabin where he and his brother liked to swim. His father had told him before that once in the spirit world he should look for an animal. That animal would speak to him and would then be his spirit guide but he saw nothing. He went over to the landing and kicked off his shoes to splash around a little. He did love to swim. Perhaps it would be a fish. He turned around to look up at the hills, wriggling his toes in the sand and enjoying the current between them. He was searching amongst the peaks for the twist of smoke from Anar's fireplace when he saw something swooping through the trees down from the tallest peak. The silhouette of the animal got bigger and bigger as it came gliding quietly towards him but Amal was not afraid.
When the giant bird landed, however, he could not help but feel indignance. It wasn't that he was disappointed in the thing itself. If anything he was impressed. It was an enormous creature, nearly as big as he was with a magnificent wingspan but it was just…
"You're my spirit guide?"
"Yes," replied the animal, bobbing its enormous head.
"But you're an Old Earth animal."
"Yes," he said. "I am a Condor. Do you not approve?"
"This is New Earth. You don't belong here."
"You're an Old Earth animal as well," answered the bird. "Do you not belong here either?"
Amal though for a moment. "I do belong here. My heart is here and always will be." He knew that without a doubt now.
"Good, good. It is good that you know this."
They both stood and looked at each other for a few moments. Amal wiggled his toes in the river but still was silent, waiting. When the boy did not appear forthcoming with questions, the Condor began preening his wing.
"Aren't you supposed to be telling me things?" asked Amal "I came looking for answers."
"And I will help you find them," said the bird, "when you ask me the questions." Amal still said nothing. "It is alright if you still don't know what to ask. The answers you seek are deep in your spirit already and I am here to help you dig them up but you see it is troublesome to locate them if you don't first know what you are looking for."
"Ok, then. Is my family moving to Old Earth?"
"Eh?" The Condor seemed to shrug. "Maybe, maybe not."
"That's no answer."
"I'm your spirit guide. I am not of your parents' spirits. Have you asked them?"
"I've tried but they don't know."
"Have you talked to them about it?"
"A little."
"But your spirit holds much worry on the subject."
"I guess so."
"Then you must talk to your parents in proportion to the worry," pronounced the bird. "If you say very little they will believe you care very little. You have more influence in the matter than you think. Remember too, the more you worry on the outside the less you will worry inside." With that, the condor took wing. Amal watched it soar up over the hills. After a few moments he found himself blinking on the rock across from his father. Chakotay was gazing expectantly at his son.
"I met my spirit guide," said Amal. "I think I'm more confused than I was before."
"Sometimes it happens that way," Chakotay replied. "Take a few days to think about what was said then we'll try again."
"Can I have my tattoo now?"
"How about we wait a few more days and a few more spirit walks on that too. On your thirteenth birthday, if you still want it and can tell me why, and your mother approves, then alright."
The two got up and headed for home. Amal mulled over what he'd seen the entire way back and already a list of questions were springing up faster than he could remember them. He'd make his way to the rocks tomorrow for sure.
=Λ= =Λ= =Λ=
"I do not understand," said Whed as he and the Doctor lugged large medical cases through the woods and heavy underbrush to the southern hemisphere of New Earth. "Why does Captain Janeway want to cure the Azhatti when they are her enemies?"
"By helping them, she helps everyone," explained the Doctor. "The Azhatti want to leave the planet. Though the Trecta have managed to keep the peace for the last few years, they will probably never really have it until the Azhatti get what they want."
"And what of the people this group will likely rob or kill once they are off New Earth?" asked the young Zahoran, raising an eyebrow in what the EMH thought a very Tuvok-like fashion.
"We don't know if that is what they'll do," he replied. "Also, it is for the Amalgam to police them, not us." Whed still looked skeptical. "Sometimes, when you are confronted with a difficult decision, you must weigh all courses and choose the one that causes the least harm." Whed nodded but said nothing. "When is this Zahoran phase done?" asked the Doctor with mock irritation.
"The one where I question everything?" Whed let a quirk of a smile escape. "About sixteen human years."
"I'll throw your sixteenth birthday party myself," answered the Doctor.
"Stop right there!" Two Azhatti and jumped out of the bushes and were aiming phase rifles at Whed and the EMH. "This is our territory," said the bigger one. "You've got no right being here. What do you want? What's in your cases?"
"We're physicians," the Doctor replied. "Captain Janeway sent us here to distribute medication against the parasite that is keeping you on the planet."
"Captain Janeway?" said the first Azhatti. The second leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Ah. That little human female. You look human too," he said pointing accusingly at the Doctor. "Where's your tattoo?"
"Uh," the Doctor stuttered, choosing not to explain his actual physiology just at that moment. "Not all humans choose to tattoo themselves."
"And you," the big Azhatti went on, turning to Whed. "You're Zahoran."
"And you are a pirate," replied Whed calmly. The alien's face screwed up indignantly. "Oh. I apologize," continued Whed as stoically as ever. "I'd assumed you were initiating a conversation of the obvious. No?"
"Alright," the Doctor interjected. "As I was explaining, we are physicians and we have medicine for you. We were instructed to ask for Durah'kett."
"But his people work for the bloody toad-man now," protested the second Azhatti, nodding toward Whed and clutching his rifle even harder. "And he's wearing one of their uniforms. How do we know he ain't gonna arrest us as soon as we take their medicine and can leave?"
"If you know so much about my people," replied the young Zahoran, "you'll notice from the bars on my sleeve that I am only a Discens. I won't even be a Praefectus third class for another human year, so I am not exactly in a position of authority."
The first Azhatti looked him up and down.
"Guess you do look a little young," he grunted finally. "Forgot how tall you buggers get. Fine. We'll take you to Durah, but you walk in front."
Whed and the Doctor took the lead with guns in their backs as the group trudged through the forest with the Doctor vaguely wondering if the Azhatti would notice if he attempted to adjust his emitter to desolidify himself.
=Λ= =Λ= =Λ=
"So Captain Janeway wants to help us," said Durah'kett, stabbing at another bite of his meal with his knife. The Doctor and Whed had found him at diner with Tic'tau. Normally he granted audience to no one when he was eating but this was too interesting. He had to see what the human female wanted. He'd been waiting for something to happen since their sensors had picked up ships in orbit a few days ago but he hadn't expected this. He badly wanted to satisfy his curiosity about the faint Borg signature too but held his tongue on that count.
"It could be as In'nout said," suggested Tic'tau.
"I don't think so," answered Durah'kett, eyeing his visitors that stood before him. "If I know Janeway at all, if she wanted to arrest me or kill me, she'd do it herself. Fine. We'll take your medicine, but we have to test it first."
"Very well, replied the Doctor, loading up a hypospray. "Who is our first patient?"
"Me," grunted Druah'kett.
"But Durah," protested Tic'tau. "What if it is poison?"
"Then you'll be in charge and those two will die quick enough. If it is, I certainly can't ask one of my men to die by something that was meant for me. We may be pirates but we're not savages. I won't order any of them to do something I wouldn't do myself." He turned a gruff look on the Doctor. "Make sure you let Janeway know that." The EMH nodded as he hyposprayed the Azhatti captain in the neck. After a few tries he finally found a gap in the thick grey scales. Durah'kett quickly shook his head to throw off the sting. The Doctor scanned him with a tricorder looking satisfied.
"I'm showing no signs of complications between the serum and Azhatti physiology. The parasite is now dying and your body should flush all traces of it within a day or so. Can you read a medical tricorder?"
"I think so," he replied, snatching the instrument and grunting approvingly as he skimmed through the data. "Very well. Distribute your medication but tell Janeway that if anymore of her people show up in Azhatti territory unannounced I won't be as forgiving as this time." Durah'kett kept his eyes on the two as they walked away to administer the serum amongst the camp.
"Did you see what I saw?" he asked, leaning towards Tic'tau.
"What?"
"A Zahoran in uniform."
"A very low ranking one," replied Tic.
"Exactly," said Durah. "He's a Discens. That low of a rank is still in training, meaning at least one of the ships in orbit must be Zahoran."
"Now that we can leave the planet," pointed out Tic'tau, "we're going to need a way to get back into our business. Most of our clients have probably given us up for dead."
"We'd need an advantage over our competitors, without a doubt," replied Durah'kett with a steeliness in his voice Tic hadn't heard since before they crashed.
"A Zahoran ship for crossing Amalgam borders would certainly be an advantage," mused Tic'tau. Durah'kett smiled to himself as he went back to his meal.