Star Voyager - Part 13
By Iejasu and Miklinar
The holodeck door slid open. The room was set up as a
gym, with ordinary exercise gear, and some bins with
sports equipment.
Skywalker had a stick in his hand, and was moving it
around in front of a mirror, going from pose to pose.
Naomi slid along the edge of the room. Skywalker saw
her and stopped, bringing the stick up in what looked
like a salute. Naomi took imaginary skirts in her
hands, and spread them in a curtsey. Skywalker smiled.
"What are you doing with the stick?" Naomi asked.
"At home, I had a weapon like this, but its blade was
energy. It would cut through almost anything."
Skywalker slashed the air, slow-motion, in an
elaborate design. "While I healed, my muscles forgot
how to use the weapon. I'm reminding them."
Naomi nodded. She rummaged around in the equipment bin
and found a stick -- something for a game she didn't
know yet. "Show me."
Vader showed her how to stand, and how to hold the
stick. "Now, the first move..."
The new apprentice followed his lessons eagerly. She
paid attention, and wasn't afraid to ask if the move
didn't quite look right to her. And she didn't object
if Vader had her repeat the same movement over and
over with tiny adjustments.
The door slid open again. Framed in the doorway was
the slender form of Seven of Nine, who studied the
tableau before her. "Naomi Wildman. You have assigned
duties at this time."
Naomi finished her swing, and brought the stick up in
the salute Skywalker had used. "I'll be right there."
She nodded to Skywalker, "Thank you for the lessons."
"You're welcome, Miss Wildman."
Vader watched Naomi put the stick away, and leave the
gym in Seven's company. The holodeck door slid shut.
======================
"Naomi Wildman. You will obtain permission before
keeping company of Anakin Skywalker."
Naomi fell easily into the rhythm of Seven's speech.
"Explanation requested."
"Explanation denied."
Naomi shrugged. Seven would tell her "why" when she
could, but either she didn't know or had been told not
to explain. Seven was waiting... "Order logged. I will
comply."
"Very well." Seven and Naomi arrived at the classroom.
"I have scheduled an hour of recreational activities
with you after your class. Please remain here for my
arrival."
"I will comply."
Seven nodded sharply, "See that you do." The door slid
shut between them.
Naomi muttered, "But I don't see why I should."
=================
Seven of Nine concentrated on her task. The captain
seemed to think this data crystal was of some
importance, but had not specified any approach. "Just
do your best."
Talking to herself was not her usual habit, but
keeping a verbal log of her investigation was
acceptable. "Investigation, data crystal, source
Skywalker, measurements...."
The engineering bench had a dozen instruments for
determining resistance, capacitance, and other
characteristics of any artifact under investigation.
After some experimentation, she was able to coax a
signal from the scorched medium.
There were some images of Skywalker, in a pristine
copy of his life-support armor. The voice was
considerably different... she adjusted the audio
output initially, but then readjusted it when another
human spoke. The voice in the recording was
significantly lower than Skywalker's unmodified one.
"Computer. Universal translator. Analyze all audio
output."
More adjustments, and the images grew clearer.
"He's a danger to _Voyager_," said a voice behind her.
"Explain," Seven answered. Then she turned. There was
no one there.
She felt a peculiar sensation above her eye, in her
ocular implant. It most closely resembled the
sensations from the time when the doctor had stored
his program in Seven to avoid detection.
"Oh. Then someone has done this before?" The voice was
close to human in timber and phrasing, but not quite.
There was a certain hollowness to it.
"Identify yourself. And explain your intrusion."
She could hear the sly smile in the voice, "I'm here
to help you with your project."
================
Naomi waited. Seven was late, and hadn't called. The
computer said she was still in Engineering. The little
girl helped the teacher clean up after class, but was
in the way of the next group.
"Naomi, I think you should wait for Seven either in
the dining hall or in your quarters. If she shows up
here looking for you, I'll tell her I sent you off.
The computer will be able to track you for her."
"Thank you."
Naomi walked along the corridors, watching out for
Seven. She wasn't sure whether she actually _wanted_
to find the ex-Borg -- Seven would have some choice
words for the little girl.
She reached the dining hall without incident. Neelix
made her favorite sandwich, but seemed rather
distracted -- one of the Engineering staff was having
a birthday, and had asked Neelix to cater the party.
She looked around. No other kids, and most of the
adults here were in their own conversations. The table
offered a small variety of games, but most of them
were for at least two players, and the others were too
complicated for right now.
===========
Vader left the gym and went to his quarters, spending
a fair amount of time in the 'fresher. The comm chimed
-- it was the doctor, announcing a visit.
"I monitored your exercises this morning with
Lieutenant Torres," the doctor started. Vader waited
-- the doctor didn't want to hear explanations, and
Vader was in no mood to offer them. "I see that there
was no permanent damage. Don't indulge yourself every
day, but once a week should have no ill effects."
Well! No objections from the hologram. Good. The
doctor poked and prodded at him for a while, checking
on his nearly-healed wounds and replaced limbs. "What
is the next major procedure?"
The doctor conspicuously turned off the medical
tricorder. "Unless one of the transplants fails, there
are none. You're well on the road to being healed,
Mister Skywalker. Patience and mild --" with a raised
eyebrow -- "exercise, good nutrition, and proper rest
will suffice. I will, of course, continue to monitor
your vital signs for some time." With a practiced
cheerfulness, "Do you have any more questions?"
"I would like to see my medical records."
Normally the doctor discouraged this, since the
medical terminology tended to be interpreted by his
shipmates as much more deleterious than it was --
rhinorrhea being a case in point, a simple runny nose
that, properly labeled, sounded _horrible_. But this
man had been deeply involved with his own treatments.
"Certainly, Mister Skywalker. They are available on
your console."
"Thank you. Is there anything else?"
The doctor made an adjustment to the daily medicine.
"Not at this time. I will see you again in three days.
And feel free to call me if there are any changes."
The doctor didn't wait for an acknowledgement, but
disappeared. Vader sighed -- another ordeal survived.
But no more procedures? That was excellent news.
==================
Janeway's voice over the comm, "Seven, do you have a
report for me, yet, on the data storage from
Skywalker's ship?"
Seven hesitated. She had a few images, but they were
insignificant. "Not at this time, Captain. The storage
material is unfamiliar, as is their encoding. I have
only one image -- a suit of armor similar, perhaps
identical, to that worn by Skywalker when he arrived
in _Voyager_. A curiosity, nothing else."
"Very well. Let me know when there is more. Janeway
out."
The voice inside her head, "You concealed the truth
from her."
"Not to any significant degree." Seven adjusted the
contact points on the interface she had built between
the data crystal and the ship's computer. The image on
the viewscreen cleared.
===============
Vader's afternoon was open. More exercise was out of
the question -- the doctor had been firm on that
score. "Computer. What holoprograms are running"
"Fair Haven is running on Holodeck two. The other
holodecks are reserved at this time."
"Thank you."
His replicator wouldn't generate clothing suitable for
Fair Haven, but he could use the console to choose an
outfit, and pick it up at Stores. Tom's selection for
his first visit had been adequate, but there were
other possibilities...
The ensign tending Stores was helpful. "There's a
walking stick that goes with that suit -- blackthorn
with a silver head." A series of images. Vader looked
them over, found one that looked a little like a
bantha's head. "Very good."
The Stores replicator produced tailored clothing. The
ensign touched a panel and one bulkhead became a
mirror. The stranger looking back at him was
startling. The doctor had done more than simple repair
and replacement -- the scars he had lived with for
long years were nearly gone.
"Thank you, Ensign."
"You're welcome, Admiral."
=================
Michael Sullivan nodded cordially to the tall
newcomer. "Welcome back, m'lud. Is it a pint you'll be
having, or a meal?"
"A pint to start with, thank you." Vader took a deep
breath. The pot on the hearth simmered merrily,
unfamiliar spices but tempting. "And a bowl of your
stew, as well."
One of the women pulled the pint, and headed out
around the bar to Vader. She led him to a table near
the fire. "Here you are, m'lud." She smiled. "The rest
will be here apace. There's fresh bread coming out of
the oven even now."
"Thank you, miss." Vader sat and turned toward the
fire, sipping at the beer. He was finally warm enough.
The pint helped with that, too. This was synthehol?
He felt her before he heard her. The young lady with
the tray wasn't a hologram. She smiled and put the
tray on the table. "Your stew and some fresh bread,
m'lud." She took the bowl and set it before him, then
a platter with a fresh, steaming loaf of the local
bread and a small crock of a yellow spread.
"And your name is?"
"Brigid Murphy, m'lud."
Vader nodded slightly. "And you're one of Katie
o'Clare's people?"
The barmaid's smile widened, ever so slightly. "Aye.
And you're the first one who's ever seen it."
Vader waved at the other chair at the table. "Have a
seat for a minute. If your duties permit."
She looked over at Sullivan, who gave her a short nod,
then slid into the chair. "And how did you know,
m'lord?"
"So you won't give yourself away next time? I have a
... talent ... for detecting holographic 'persons'.
You aren't, so you're one of Katie's. Tell me -- it
amuses you to play the servant?"
"Aye. I used to help me mum in an inn -- not terribly
like this, but still... There is much joy in being
able to say 'enough.' "
"Excuse me? I don't understand." Vader broke the bread
and offered the young woman a piece. She accepted and
spread it with soft yellow. Vader spread a little of
the yellow on his bread and tasted it -- not just
butter, but sweetened. "What _is_ this?"
"Honey butter, m'lord."
"What is 'honey'?"
Brigid paused. Ah. This was the stranger, not one of
the Alpha Quadrant folks. "An insect -- a bee -- makes
it for winter food, from the nectar of flowers."
He had heard of bees -- a hive creature. He used the
bread to scoop up some of the stew -- a technique he
had seen others in the inn use. The aromas of the
bread and honey butter and stew blended wonderfully.
This was synthesized food? Incredible!
"Many folk find joy in hard work that they do not have
to do. Some climb mountains. Others..." she shrugged,
smiling. "I waitress. Knowing that I don't have to."
"I see." Sports would fall into the same category, he
supposed. Hard work for fun.
Brigid studied the large man. There were all the
dining hall rumors, but she didn't credit them. Hm.
"And would you be liking more than casual company
tonight, m'lord?"
Vader's teeth met with more than necessary force. Had
he heard right? Quietly, he asked, "And what did you
have in mind?"
"A stroll in the moonlight, perhaps."
Vader reached for another chunk of bread, at the same
time she did. Their hands touched for an instant.
Vader froze. Her interest flooded in on him, coursing
through nerves he'd nearly forgotten having. Then,
softly, "No. I'm sorry, but..."
Her disappointment was real, but not bitter. "Perhaps
another time, then." She smiled and bit into the
bread.
Vader drew his hand back and continued to eat his
stew. Her offer was genuine, "stroll," indeed. Why had
he been so quick to refuse?
A few moments' more conversation, then Brigid excused
herself. She brought another pint over to Vader, then
started a conversation with newly arrived customers.
Sullivan approached Skywalker's table with another
bowl of stew. He put it down and slid into the seat
Brigid had vacated. "We'll be having venison tomorrow,
m'lud. My sister's son..." Sullivan hesitated,
"...found a deer injured in the wood. He's a fine deft
hand with the animals, but the young buck died anyway.
So who's to look askance at the Good Lord's bounty?"
Vader nodded once. Sullivan continued, "Brigid's a
fine lass. Knows quality when she sees it."
Vader's eyebrow rose, "Quality? What do you mean?"
"There are those who have dressed as fine as you,
m'lud, but she's spoken no more to them than to any
other customer. But when you arrived this fine
afternoon, she asked who you were."
"And you told her," Vader growled softly, "that I was
gentry."
"No, that I did not. I told her about your civility,
yes, and about the contest. M'lud, you have the
manners of the best of the gentry, not the worst. You
are no commoner -- nor can you be mistaken for one."
Vader kept from laughing. No one here knew of his base
birth, any more than they knew of his later rank.
"Perhaps. But my lands are far from here, and I fear I
will never return. Venison, you say?"
Sullivan nodded, describing the feast he had planned.
Vader listened, having only a vague idea of what
"venison" was. A deer was some game animal, obviously,
and venison its meat. And apparently "illegally"
obtained. The innkeeper was at war with himself -- the
opportunity to serve a fine meal to someone who would
object to its origin. Vader silently congratulated
Paris on the depths of his characterizations.
Then he remembered. "I have a dinner engagement
tomorrow evening. Perhaps another day, my good host."
====================
Vader stopped at the dining hall for a large mug of
cocoa to take back to his quarters. Once there, he
settled into his station chair. "Computer, identify
Brigid Murphy." He sipped at the hot, sweet liquid.
"Define context."
"Fair Haven."
"Brigid Murphy is a waitress at Sullivan's in the Fair
Haven holodeck program." An image comes up -- not
quite the Brigid Vader remembered. The computer listed
Brigid's family, residence, and even her tastes in
food and entertainment. The image began to talk. It
was the wrong voice!
Vader sat up, set the mug down. "Computer. Stop. Was
the Brigid Murphy simulation in use in the holodeck
today?"
"Negative. The Brigid Murphy simulation has been
offline for 35 days."
Vader sank back into his chair. He smiled at the
computer console. "Computer. Give me a list of all
crew accessing Fair Haven today."
"Access denied."
Vader scowled. He should be used to that, but it still
grated when he ran afoul of it. "Can I get pictures of
the female crew members on Voyager?"
The only pictures he was permitted were shots of
gatherings like awards and parties. And none of the
women was clearly Brigid -- the woman pretending to be
Brigid. Vader studied the display, frustrated.
Brigid. She had suggested they take a stroll. Heh. She
had in mind considerably more than that. Why had he
refused? His wife was years dead. He had no reason not
to... hm. The doctor's repairs were, on the whole, far
beyond Vader's expectations, but to have _that_ system
fail at the wrong moment... an excellent question. One
that could be answered easily enough, though.
Vader smiled. The doctor's repair job was, as hoped,
quite good -- everything functioned as well as it had
in his youth. So. Brigid might not be so disappointed,
once he met her again. If he were able to track her
down.
He found himself yawning -- not surprising. He had
been awake for many hours, from the combat at Torres'
side this morning to this final battle against his own
infirmities. And all the battles won.
A quick shower and then to bed.
All battles but one, he remembered. Why was Seven so
opposed to his contact with Naomi?
His last waking thought was of bees buzzing. The image
faded into a dream of Seven, an entire hive of Sevens.
============================
By Iejasu and Miklinar
The holodeck door slid open. The room was set up as a
gym, with ordinary exercise gear, and some bins with
sports equipment.
Skywalker had a stick in his hand, and was moving it
around in front of a mirror, going from pose to pose.
Naomi slid along the edge of the room. Skywalker saw
her and stopped, bringing the stick up in what looked
like a salute. Naomi took imaginary skirts in her
hands, and spread them in a curtsey. Skywalker smiled.
"What are you doing with the stick?" Naomi asked.
"At home, I had a weapon like this, but its blade was
energy. It would cut through almost anything."
Skywalker slashed the air, slow-motion, in an
elaborate design. "While I healed, my muscles forgot
how to use the weapon. I'm reminding them."
Naomi nodded. She rummaged around in the equipment bin
and found a stick -- something for a game she didn't
know yet. "Show me."
Vader showed her how to stand, and how to hold the
stick. "Now, the first move..."
The new apprentice followed his lessons eagerly. She
paid attention, and wasn't afraid to ask if the move
didn't quite look right to her. And she didn't object
if Vader had her repeat the same movement over and
over with tiny adjustments.
The door slid open again. Framed in the doorway was
the slender form of Seven of Nine, who studied the
tableau before her. "Naomi Wildman. You have assigned
duties at this time."
Naomi finished her swing, and brought the stick up in
the salute Skywalker had used. "I'll be right there."
She nodded to Skywalker, "Thank you for the lessons."
"You're welcome, Miss Wildman."
Vader watched Naomi put the stick away, and leave the
gym in Seven's company. The holodeck door slid shut.
======================
"Naomi Wildman. You will obtain permission before
keeping company of Anakin Skywalker."
Naomi fell easily into the rhythm of Seven's speech.
"Explanation requested."
"Explanation denied."
Naomi shrugged. Seven would tell her "why" when she
could, but either she didn't know or had been told not
to explain. Seven was waiting... "Order logged. I will
comply."
"Very well." Seven and Naomi arrived at the classroom.
"I have scheduled an hour of recreational activities
with you after your class. Please remain here for my
arrival."
"I will comply."
Seven nodded sharply, "See that you do." The door slid
shut between them.
Naomi muttered, "But I don't see why I should."
=================
Seven of Nine concentrated on her task. The captain
seemed to think this data crystal was of some
importance, but had not specified any approach. "Just
do your best."
Talking to herself was not her usual habit, but
keeping a verbal log of her investigation was
acceptable. "Investigation, data crystal, source
Skywalker, measurements...."
The engineering bench had a dozen instruments for
determining resistance, capacitance, and other
characteristics of any artifact under investigation.
After some experimentation, she was able to coax a
signal from the scorched medium.
There were some images of Skywalker, in a pristine
copy of his life-support armor. The voice was
considerably different... she adjusted the audio
output initially, but then readjusted it when another
human spoke. The voice in the recording was
significantly lower than Skywalker's unmodified one.
"Computer. Universal translator. Analyze all audio
output."
More adjustments, and the images grew clearer.
"He's a danger to _Voyager_," said a voice behind her.
"Explain," Seven answered. Then she turned. There was
no one there.
She felt a peculiar sensation above her eye, in her
ocular implant. It most closely resembled the
sensations from the time when the doctor had stored
his program in Seven to avoid detection.
"Oh. Then someone has done this before?" The voice was
close to human in timber and phrasing, but not quite.
There was a certain hollowness to it.
"Identify yourself. And explain your intrusion."
She could hear the sly smile in the voice, "I'm here
to help you with your project."
================
Naomi waited. Seven was late, and hadn't called. The
computer said she was still in Engineering. The little
girl helped the teacher clean up after class, but was
in the way of the next group.
"Naomi, I think you should wait for Seven either in
the dining hall or in your quarters. If she shows up
here looking for you, I'll tell her I sent you off.
The computer will be able to track you for her."
"Thank you."
Naomi walked along the corridors, watching out for
Seven. She wasn't sure whether she actually _wanted_
to find the ex-Borg -- Seven would have some choice
words for the little girl.
She reached the dining hall without incident. Neelix
made her favorite sandwich, but seemed rather
distracted -- one of the Engineering staff was having
a birthday, and had asked Neelix to cater the party.
She looked around. No other kids, and most of the
adults here were in their own conversations. The table
offered a small variety of games, but most of them
were for at least two players, and the others were too
complicated for right now.
===========
Vader left the gym and went to his quarters, spending
a fair amount of time in the 'fresher. The comm chimed
-- it was the doctor, announcing a visit.
"I monitored your exercises this morning with
Lieutenant Torres," the doctor started. Vader waited
-- the doctor didn't want to hear explanations, and
Vader was in no mood to offer them. "I see that there
was no permanent damage. Don't indulge yourself every
day, but once a week should have no ill effects."
Well! No objections from the hologram. Good. The
doctor poked and prodded at him for a while, checking
on his nearly-healed wounds and replaced limbs. "What
is the next major procedure?"
The doctor conspicuously turned off the medical
tricorder. "Unless one of the transplants fails, there
are none. You're well on the road to being healed,
Mister Skywalker. Patience and mild --" with a raised
eyebrow -- "exercise, good nutrition, and proper rest
will suffice. I will, of course, continue to monitor
your vital signs for some time." With a practiced
cheerfulness, "Do you have any more questions?"
"I would like to see my medical records."
Normally the doctor discouraged this, since the
medical terminology tended to be interpreted by his
shipmates as much more deleterious than it was --
rhinorrhea being a case in point, a simple runny nose
that, properly labeled, sounded _horrible_. But this
man had been deeply involved with his own treatments.
"Certainly, Mister Skywalker. They are available on
your console."
"Thank you. Is there anything else?"
The doctor made an adjustment to the daily medicine.
"Not at this time. I will see you again in three days.
And feel free to call me if there are any changes."
The doctor didn't wait for an acknowledgement, but
disappeared. Vader sighed -- another ordeal survived.
But no more procedures? That was excellent news.
==================
Janeway's voice over the comm, "Seven, do you have a
report for me, yet, on the data storage from
Skywalker's ship?"
Seven hesitated. She had a few images, but they were
insignificant. "Not at this time, Captain. The storage
material is unfamiliar, as is their encoding. I have
only one image -- a suit of armor similar, perhaps
identical, to that worn by Skywalker when he arrived
in _Voyager_. A curiosity, nothing else."
"Very well. Let me know when there is more. Janeway
out."
The voice inside her head, "You concealed the truth
from her."
"Not to any significant degree." Seven adjusted the
contact points on the interface she had built between
the data crystal and the ship's computer. The image on
the viewscreen cleared.
===============
Vader's afternoon was open. More exercise was out of
the question -- the doctor had been firm on that
score. "Computer. What holoprograms are running"
"Fair Haven is running on Holodeck two. The other
holodecks are reserved at this time."
"Thank you."
His replicator wouldn't generate clothing suitable for
Fair Haven, but he could use the console to choose an
outfit, and pick it up at Stores. Tom's selection for
his first visit had been adequate, but there were
other possibilities...
The ensign tending Stores was helpful. "There's a
walking stick that goes with that suit -- blackthorn
with a silver head." A series of images. Vader looked
them over, found one that looked a little like a
bantha's head. "Very good."
The Stores replicator produced tailored clothing. The
ensign touched a panel and one bulkhead became a
mirror. The stranger looking back at him was
startling. The doctor had done more than simple repair
and replacement -- the scars he had lived with for
long years were nearly gone.
"Thank you, Ensign."
"You're welcome, Admiral."
=================
Michael Sullivan nodded cordially to the tall
newcomer. "Welcome back, m'lud. Is it a pint you'll be
having, or a meal?"
"A pint to start with, thank you." Vader took a deep
breath. The pot on the hearth simmered merrily,
unfamiliar spices but tempting. "And a bowl of your
stew, as well."
One of the women pulled the pint, and headed out
around the bar to Vader. She led him to a table near
the fire. "Here you are, m'lud." She smiled. "The rest
will be here apace. There's fresh bread coming out of
the oven even now."
"Thank you, miss." Vader sat and turned toward the
fire, sipping at the beer. He was finally warm enough.
The pint helped with that, too. This was synthehol?
He felt her before he heard her. The young lady with
the tray wasn't a hologram. She smiled and put the
tray on the table. "Your stew and some fresh bread,
m'lud." She took the bowl and set it before him, then
a platter with a fresh, steaming loaf of the local
bread and a small crock of a yellow spread.
"And your name is?"
"Brigid Murphy, m'lud."
Vader nodded slightly. "And you're one of Katie
o'Clare's people?"
The barmaid's smile widened, ever so slightly. "Aye.
And you're the first one who's ever seen it."
Vader waved at the other chair at the table. "Have a
seat for a minute. If your duties permit."
She looked over at Sullivan, who gave her a short nod,
then slid into the chair. "And how did you know,
m'lord?"
"So you won't give yourself away next time? I have a
... talent ... for detecting holographic 'persons'.
You aren't, so you're one of Katie's. Tell me -- it
amuses you to play the servant?"
"Aye. I used to help me mum in an inn -- not terribly
like this, but still... There is much joy in being
able to say 'enough.' "
"Excuse me? I don't understand." Vader broke the bread
and offered the young woman a piece. She accepted and
spread it with soft yellow. Vader spread a little of
the yellow on his bread and tasted it -- not just
butter, but sweetened. "What _is_ this?"
"Honey butter, m'lord."
"What is 'honey'?"
Brigid paused. Ah. This was the stranger, not one of
the Alpha Quadrant folks. "An insect -- a bee -- makes
it for winter food, from the nectar of flowers."
He had heard of bees -- a hive creature. He used the
bread to scoop up some of the stew -- a technique he
had seen others in the inn use. The aromas of the
bread and honey butter and stew blended wonderfully.
This was synthesized food? Incredible!
"Many folk find joy in hard work that they do not have
to do. Some climb mountains. Others..." she shrugged,
smiling. "I waitress. Knowing that I don't have to."
"I see." Sports would fall into the same category, he
supposed. Hard work for fun.
Brigid studied the large man. There were all the
dining hall rumors, but she didn't credit them. Hm.
"And would you be liking more than casual company
tonight, m'lord?"
Vader's teeth met with more than necessary force. Had
he heard right? Quietly, he asked, "And what did you
have in mind?"
"A stroll in the moonlight, perhaps."
Vader reached for another chunk of bread, at the same
time she did. Their hands touched for an instant.
Vader froze. Her interest flooded in on him, coursing
through nerves he'd nearly forgotten having. Then,
softly, "No. I'm sorry, but..."
Her disappointment was real, but not bitter. "Perhaps
another time, then." She smiled and bit into the
bread.
Vader drew his hand back and continued to eat his
stew. Her offer was genuine, "stroll," indeed. Why had
he been so quick to refuse?
A few moments' more conversation, then Brigid excused
herself. She brought another pint over to Vader, then
started a conversation with newly arrived customers.
Sullivan approached Skywalker's table with another
bowl of stew. He put it down and slid into the seat
Brigid had vacated. "We'll be having venison tomorrow,
m'lud. My sister's son..." Sullivan hesitated,
"...found a deer injured in the wood. He's a fine deft
hand with the animals, but the young buck died anyway.
So who's to look askance at the Good Lord's bounty?"
Vader nodded once. Sullivan continued, "Brigid's a
fine lass. Knows quality when she sees it."
Vader's eyebrow rose, "Quality? What do you mean?"
"There are those who have dressed as fine as you,
m'lud, but she's spoken no more to them than to any
other customer. But when you arrived this fine
afternoon, she asked who you were."
"And you told her," Vader growled softly, "that I was
gentry."
"No, that I did not. I told her about your civility,
yes, and about the contest. M'lud, you have the
manners of the best of the gentry, not the worst. You
are no commoner -- nor can you be mistaken for one."
Vader kept from laughing. No one here knew of his base
birth, any more than they knew of his later rank.
"Perhaps. But my lands are far from here, and I fear I
will never return. Venison, you say?"
Sullivan nodded, describing the feast he had planned.
Vader listened, having only a vague idea of what
"venison" was. A deer was some game animal, obviously,
and venison its meat. And apparently "illegally"
obtained. The innkeeper was at war with himself -- the
opportunity to serve a fine meal to someone who would
object to its origin. Vader silently congratulated
Paris on the depths of his characterizations.
Then he remembered. "I have a dinner engagement
tomorrow evening. Perhaps another day, my good host."
====================
Vader stopped at the dining hall for a large mug of
cocoa to take back to his quarters. Once there, he
settled into his station chair. "Computer, identify
Brigid Murphy." He sipped at the hot, sweet liquid.
"Define context."
"Fair Haven."
"Brigid Murphy is a waitress at Sullivan's in the Fair
Haven holodeck program." An image comes up -- not
quite the Brigid Vader remembered. The computer listed
Brigid's family, residence, and even her tastes in
food and entertainment. The image began to talk. It
was the wrong voice!
Vader sat up, set the mug down. "Computer. Stop. Was
the Brigid Murphy simulation in use in the holodeck
today?"
"Negative. The Brigid Murphy simulation has been
offline for 35 days."
Vader sank back into his chair. He smiled at the
computer console. "Computer. Give me a list of all
crew accessing Fair Haven today."
"Access denied."
Vader scowled. He should be used to that, but it still
grated when he ran afoul of it. "Can I get pictures of
the female crew members on Voyager?"
The only pictures he was permitted were shots of
gatherings like awards and parties. And none of the
women was clearly Brigid -- the woman pretending to be
Brigid. Vader studied the display, frustrated.
Brigid. She had suggested they take a stroll. Heh. She
had in mind considerably more than that. Why had he
refused? His wife was years dead. He had no reason not
to... hm. The doctor's repairs were, on the whole, far
beyond Vader's expectations, but to have _that_ system
fail at the wrong moment... an excellent question. One
that could be answered easily enough, though.
Vader smiled. The doctor's repair job was, as hoped,
quite good -- everything functioned as well as it had
in his youth. So. Brigid might not be so disappointed,
once he met her again. If he were able to track her
down.
He found himself yawning -- not surprising. He had
been awake for many hours, from the combat at Torres'
side this morning to this final battle against his own
infirmities. And all the battles won.
A quick shower and then to bed.
All battles but one, he remembered. Why was Seven so
opposed to his contact with Naomi?
His last waking thought was of bees buzzing. The image
faded into a dream of Seven, an entire hive of Sevens.
============================