Star Voyager - Part 14
By Iejasu and Miklinar
Music. Vader had asked the computer to vary its wake-up call and this
time it was some sort of orchestral music, fairly stirring. Vader
smiled. Something soothing would hardly do for a wake-up, would it.
Stretches, then the 'fresher for a pounding with a newly discovered
"needle spray" setting. The last time he felt something like that, it had
been sand, and had tried to remove his skin. But as water, it was
invigorating.
Paris joined him halfway to the dining room. "We're doing some
maintenance on a shuttle today. Then I've got helm all afternoon."
Vader nodded. "What's the difference between the flyer and a shuttle?"
Paris grinned. "Me."
-----------------
Vader looked around the dining hall. He didn't expect to see Brigid
there -- he was sure he'd have felt her presence before the door slid
open. But there was a scattering of familiar faces, folks who had been in
Fair Haven at the poetry reading. Some of them nodded amicably at him,
but turned back to their own conversations.
Paris brought a pair of plates over to the table. "These are good --
but don't tell Neelix I said so."
"Why not?"
"Because it'll encourage him to do more experimentation. _That_ could
cause a mutiny."
Vader shook his head. Such convoluted logic. Why didn't they just order
the cook not to experiment? But Paris was right. The food _was_ good.
------------
The shuttles were definitely of an older design. "The flyer has a lot
of innovations we picked up here in the Delta Quadrant. Including some
Borg ideas."
Vader remembered a discussion of "conduits" -- something he had filed
for later consideration, since he only barely had a handle on basic Star
Fleet warp drive technologies.
"How much different is the piloting?"
The work was intriguing, and Vader was actually surprised when Paris
called it to a halt. "Lunch. Fair Haven's open today -- want to make it
there? Or are you tired of it?"
A low rumble of laughter from the older man. "Fair Haven will suit very
well. I will meet you in front of the holodeck in fifteen minutes."
Tom wiped his hands on a none-too-clean rag and nodded. "I guess
cleaning up would be a good idea."
-------------
Vader studied himself in the mirror in his 'fresher. Females had been
an infrequent part of his life before he had reached _Voyager_ -- now
they were not only present, but sought his company! Although his exercise
session with Torres couldn't really be included in that category.
And Seven of Nine's dislike of him balanced his new-found truce with
Torres. Seven's attitude wouldn't be a problem by itself, but she seemed
determined to keep his youngest acquaintance from him.
---------------
The entrance to Fair Haven slid open. The two men strode in, trying to
get clear of the door as quickly as possible, to restore the ambience.
The salt in the air was especially obvious today. Paris muttered, "I
need to check the settings on that."
Vader suppressed a chuckle. The youngster was something of an artist,
creating this place. "Maybe there's a storm brewing?"
Tom laughed. "Maybe. I've been feeling uneasy lately -- maybe the
holodeck is picking up indications of rough space ahead."
"Rough space" was an expression Tom used for a number of nebulosities,
subspace ripples, and other irregularities that kept _Voyager_'s
journey "interesting."
"Do you have to fix it before lunch?"
---------------
Lunch was the venison Sullivan had mentioned the day before. Vader
tasted the dishes gingerly. The meat actually had taste to it, unlike some
of the replicator offerings. It reminded him faintly of roast bantha.
Sullivan watched as the large, well-dressed man picked daintily at the
food before giving in to his appetite. He brought a freshly drawn mug
of brew and set it on the table. "And are things to your liking, m'lud?"
Vader nodded, taking a gulp of beer to clear his mouth before
answering. "Yes. Very well done. The meals..." he corrected in mid-sentence,
"... on shipboard are nothing in comparison."
Sullivan grinned. "Thank you. m'lud."
Other customers drew Sullivan away. Vader satisfied his appetite and
sat nibbling on the remainder, sipping his beer. He looked around. The
others in the inn were Fair Haven residents rather than _Voyager_ crew.
Even Paris had disappeared.
"Sullivan."
The innkeeper appeared at Vader's elbow at once. "Yes, m'lud?"
"Brigid Murphy. Where is she?"
Sullivan hesitated. "It's her day off, m'lud. I can send one of the
lads to her house to see if she's there, if you wish."
Vader waved his hand. "No need. She lives in the town?"
"Over the hill, out near the river, m'lud. I can have one of the
lads..."
Vader shrugged. "Perhaps later." He pushed the meal away and sat
watching the fire, sipping at the mug of beer.
Damn. He was sure she'd be here. Perhaps ship duties interfered.
Without her real name, there was no way to query the computer.
The venison sat well in his stomach, as did the bread. He had been too
young when he left Tatooine to know much of their beer, but the other
tastes were certainly similar.
One of the barmaids cleared Vader's table of the venison, depositing a
bowl of some kind of red berries with thick cream spooned over them.
Vader studied the bowl through half-closed eyes. More of _Voyager_'s
taste for sweets. He could let it wait.
Familiar thought patterns intruded. Paris, then Kim. No Brigid. He was
_not_ going to ask Paris's help to track her down.
Ah. There. On the edge of town, as if she had just entered the
holoprogram. And he heard the inn's door open.
-----------
Brigid saw him, sitting by the fire, leaning back in his chair, his
feet stretched out before him. He looked like a big cat, one of the
leonids, maybe, or a giant panther -- relaxed but poised to react at the
least provocation. Definitely a wild animal, not one of the domesticated
Federation menfolk. Dangerous.
She smiled.
Sullivan nodded at her when he saw her walk in. From Michael's raised
eyebrow and slight nod toward Skywalker, the gentleman had asked about
her. Good. She _thought_ he had been interested -- wasn't sure why he
had shied off before.
She slid into the empty chair at Skywalker's table. "A fine afternoon,
my lord."
"Indeed it is."
His eyes opened. A fine, clear blue, and incredibly deep. She could
gaze into those eyes for hours -- if she didn't have other intentions.
"I see you've had Michael's venison pie. He has a fine hand with it,
does he not?"
"Yes, he does."
His eyes lingered on hers, then dropped to take in her figure and then
back up to her face. His smile was gentle, not eager. Brigid wasn't
sure whether that should worry her or not. The younger Star Fleet men were
a little too fast sometimes -- or slow, either from nerves or because
they were dense. The few older ones were spoken for, or too dedicated to
their work. Skywalker... fit neither category.
She had heard Tom call him "admiral," but he certainly wasn't like any
admiral _she_ had ever encountered. Star Fleet admirals were
accountable to too many layers above them. Skywalker gave the impression of being
under no one's command.
Her eyes lit on the bowl of berries and cream. "Not in the mood for
dessert, m'lord?"
His voice was a low rumble that gently rasped along her nerves like a
cat's tongue. "You're welcome to it. The venison pie ... I'm afraid I
filled up the corners with that first."
Brigid took one of the berries and dunked it into the heavy cream, then
put it on her tongue. The berry were from the airponics bay, not
replicated. She chewed it slowly, tasting the sweet and slight tartness, the
textures of the fibrous berry and the smooth cream.
Vader watched the woman. Padmé had never particularly enjoyed meals --
she was too subject to being called away to her duties during them. A
quiet meal was a rarity, much less a chance to appreciate the sensual
qualities of the food. This one... He could feel her enjoying the
berries, the cream.
She smiled at him. "I think it's too fine a day to be spending it
inside, m'lord. And if I stay here, I'll be having another bowl of berries
and cream, and then where would my figure be?"
As expected, her words provoked another top-to-bottom inspection. She
winked, "I think a stroll would help settle the meal. Do you agree,
m'lord?"
"Indeed." He sat forward in his chair, rose to his feet. "I take it you
have some favorite paths in mind? Something scenic?"
Her gentle laughter was answer enough for him.
---------------
Tom Paris saw Skywalker leaving Sullivan's with a young woman. She
looked familiar -- ah. The modified Brigid O'Donnell. McGinty? Something
Fair Havenish.
At least this one didn't have a pig herder for a betrothed. Tom watched
them walking slowly toward the edge of town, toward the river and the
far hills rather than the shore like he would have expected. He started
toward them, then pulled himself up short. It had been quite a while
since the rampage in sickbay. Tom didn't see any reason to give Skywalker
a genuine excuse to lose his temper.
So Skywalker had overcome his aversion to holograms? Interesting.
--------------
"I looked for you in the ship's records," Vader said, smiling slightly.
"And you found 'twas no Brigid Murphy amongst Katie O'Clare's folk?"
Her laugh was merry. Her face colored a little -- he had bothered to look
for her, outside Fair Haven.
"Correct. Surely, you do not think you can conceal yourself from the
rest of the crew?"
She turned and faced him, her hands on her hips, wisps of her hair
loose around her face. "M'lord, the others cannot tell a phantom of light
from flesh and blood. I have taken steps to change my looks and my
voice. Tom may suspect. The others do not."
A long silence. "And you do not choose to tell them. If one of your
crewmates had courted you here and won you..."
She interrupted gently, "I would tell him, before it went so far.
Katie's crew is a team -- I would not bushwhack someone I cared for."
It took Vader a moment to work over all the connotations of
"bushwhack." When he had, he had sudden visions of being hijacked and held
prisoner, to be kept for... what?
"Did it happen?"
"Nearly, once. But before we did more than stroll on the beach, he was
lost." Her eyes searched the horizon, looking perhaps for a man who
would never return to her arms. "And I have no taste for phantoms in my
bed."
Vader snorted, but to himself, not aloud. Could _she_ tell? "And you
think I am real?"
She laughed, looking him up and down. "Tommy boy doesn't have that good
an imagination. Or the nerve to put someone like you in his village --
you're near enough to his father that he'd shy away from the idea."
"I see."
----------------
The stroll was conversation and an occasional touch. He held her arm as
they climbed a steep path in the woods, just before the trail opened to
a vista of rolling hills with open fields and small cottages.
She was breathing heavily at the top of the climb, and her face was
flushed. "A shame it is, that so paltry a climb should tax me so much."
"We can sit here and rest, if you like. It's a splendid view."
She smiled. The grass was green and lush, and gave under their feet.
-----------------
Even as an illusion, the open spaces soaked into the back of Vader's
mind, relaxing him. "Have you been to many worlds?"
The slight frown on her face -- he played over their conversation and
realized how she had tried to keep in character. "You've travelled to
other lands," he amended. "With Katie O'Clare."
"Aye. But none so beautiful as home."
He looked around. This could be Naboo, or Alderaan-that-was. Not his
home, but very nice. "Fair Haven is only another stop on your journey."
She nodded solemnly. "I judge from your words that you don't have a
young man waiting for you."
"There was none I cared for so much when I left. And even if I had...
Katie was spoken-for before we came here. But the journey will not end
while we may still find partners and have families. We must do that
along the way. Those we left behind know that."
Partners. Families. Vader suddenly wondered exactly how close to what
edge he might be. It had never occurred to him to look up ship's
regulations on mating. If he did more than "stroll" with Brigid, might he find
himself forced into something more permanent?
And would it be so bad if he were?
Yes. Until he was sure that he would be staying among these people, he
didn't want to leave any hostages to fortune. No more sons to be raised
to hate him...
Another snort. If he were healed enough to be fertile in the first
place, even if the physical responses were restored.
Would it really be so bad..?
They sat. His arm was around her shoulders as she pointed out whose
farms were in the valley beneath them. The animals below -- sheep? --
looked like tethered clouds wandering across a green sky.
The breeze had a bit of chill to it, and Brigid snuggled in closer. His
hand stroked her hair. He leaned his head against hers, inhaling the
scent of her hair. "Brigid..."
Her whispered, "Yes?" was a mere breeze against his cheek.
"Is one of those cottages empty? Somewhere where no one will be
wandering by on his own stroll?"
"I think so."
He helped her to her feet. The motion swung her into his arms. A long,
gentle embrace, moving into a soft kiss. She tasted of spice, and
sweet, and flowers...
Something buzzed. She stiffened. She turned her head, spoke away from
him. "What is it?"
Nothing was audible to him, but she was obviously listening. "I see.
Tell him when he gets out, I'll break his _other_ leg for him."
She sighed. "M'lord, I have duties. I regret -- _deeply regret_ -- that
I must part company with you at this time. I beg your forgiveness."
And what would she do if he forbade her to go? No, let her go. Right
now, she regretted leaving him. Let it remain so. "Go, then. If you do
not find me here when you return, ask Tom of me. He generally knows my
whereabouts."
She nodded, dropped a quick curtsey... then gave him a quick peck on
his cheek. "Anything more, and I might forget my duties. Some other time,
m'lord."
---------
She was out of sight of him in the woods before she called for an exit
to get out of the holodeck. Damn Josephus for breaking his leg into
enough pieces that the doctor wanted to keep an eye on him for a full day
instead of simply patching him up and sending him back to duty.
She got back to her quarters and stripped off the Fair Haven clothing.
The full, red-tressed wig was a bit harder to disengage -- some of the
medical micro-sutures that held it on were time-locked. She had a
gadget in one of the drawers to reprogram them... here.
She dropped the red-haired wig onto its stand on her nighttable. She
shook her head and her own midnight black hair fell loose.
A quick trip to the sonic shower scoured the dermal colorant off,
leaving her skin duskier than the Celtic Brigid's. The hazel eyes were the
same, at least. And the shape of the face. But the short, almost boyish
cut of her hair, her usual voice range half an octave above Brigid's,
and the darker skin, with the uniform, should be disguise enough.
It had been so far.
Lieutenant Louise Fortunati reported to the duty officer.
------
Vader wandered the woods for a while. A piece of twig caught his eye --
no, it was the fragment of a horn or antler, not wood. He rubbed it
clean of leaf-mold, then leaned down to rinse it in a stream. He used to
be a fair hand at carving. With replicators, these people could have any
items that were in the databanks, but something hand-crafted would mean
more than fine jewels as a gift.
He smiled.
----------
He had roughed the horn into a square when there was a faint buzz in
his ear. "Schedule reminder. Dinner with Captain Janeway in one hour."
"Acknowledged." He stood and brushed tiny shreds of horn from his lap.
"Computer! Exit!"
The scene before him rippled and froze. Closer than he imagined, a door
appeared, opening into one of _Voyager_'s corridors.
Barely three meters along the corridor, he felt his palm tingle. He
looked down. His carving project was dissolving in a sparkle that looked
like the replicator's recycler. He grabbed harder, but it was gone.
Vader sighed. Tom had warned him about holodeck matter. The food in
Fair Haven was tied to the food replicators and was real. Other items
obviously were not. And outside the holoemitter range, they disappeared,
like Sidhe gold touched by iron.
------------------
Seven reported to the captain in person rather than trusting her news
to the comm. "Admiral Skywalker is not who he represents himself to be."
Janeway was annoyed. The pot roast was balking her again. She thought
she had it down, then the power would fluctuate, and she'd have raw meat
or carbonized. A replicator meal was much more dependable, but... She
hissed as she scorched her finger.
"We knew he was hiding something. What have you found?"
Seven slipped the report into the commconsole and brought up a
recording. Janeway stared, pot roast forgotten.
------------
"Chakotay, review this. Then report to my private dining room. You're
ostensibly another guest. I've talked to Tuvok..."
--------
"Computer, what would be a suitable guest-gift for a dinner?"
The computer stubbornly refused to understand him. Vader finally asked,
"What gift would be appropriate for a woman?"
The list was not unexpected -- flowers, wine, a book of poems...
"Computer. Give me some samples of poems." Then he added, thinking of Brigid,
"Love poems."
Vader wondered what the "universal translator" was actually doing to
the original writing. The words flowed, precise in some samples, vague in
others. Of course, _Voyager_ had literature from hundreds of cultures.
"Five minute reminder. Dinner with Captain Janeway."
----------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Music. Vader had asked the computer to vary its wake-up call and this
time it was some sort of orchestral music, fairly stirring. Vader
smiled. Something soothing would hardly do for a wake-up, would it.
Stretches, then the 'fresher for a pounding with a newly discovered
"needle spray" setting. The last time he felt something like that, it had
been sand, and had tried to remove his skin. But as water, it was
invigorating.
Paris joined him halfway to the dining room. "We're doing some
maintenance on a shuttle today. Then I've got helm all afternoon."
Vader nodded. "What's the difference between the flyer and a shuttle?"
Paris grinned. "Me."
-----------------
Vader looked around the dining hall. He didn't expect to see Brigid
there -- he was sure he'd have felt her presence before the door slid
open. But there was a scattering of familiar faces, folks who had been in
Fair Haven at the poetry reading. Some of them nodded amicably at him,
but turned back to their own conversations.
Paris brought a pair of plates over to the table. "These are good --
but don't tell Neelix I said so."
"Why not?"
"Because it'll encourage him to do more experimentation. _That_ could
cause a mutiny."
Vader shook his head. Such convoluted logic. Why didn't they just order
the cook not to experiment? But Paris was right. The food _was_ good.
------------
The shuttles were definitely of an older design. "The flyer has a lot
of innovations we picked up here in the Delta Quadrant. Including some
Borg ideas."
Vader remembered a discussion of "conduits" -- something he had filed
for later consideration, since he only barely had a handle on basic Star
Fleet warp drive technologies.
"How much different is the piloting?"
The work was intriguing, and Vader was actually surprised when Paris
called it to a halt. "Lunch. Fair Haven's open today -- want to make it
there? Or are you tired of it?"
A low rumble of laughter from the older man. "Fair Haven will suit very
well. I will meet you in front of the holodeck in fifteen minutes."
Tom wiped his hands on a none-too-clean rag and nodded. "I guess
cleaning up would be a good idea."
-------------
Vader studied himself in the mirror in his 'fresher. Females had been
an infrequent part of his life before he had reached _Voyager_ -- now
they were not only present, but sought his company! Although his exercise
session with Torres couldn't really be included in that category.
And Seven of Nine's dislike of him balanced his new-found truce with
Torres. Seven's attitude wouldn't be a problem by itself, but she seemed
determined to keep his youngest acquaintance from him.
---------------
The entrance to Fair Haven slid open. The two men strode in, trying to
get clear of the door as quickly as possible, to restore the ambience.
The salt in the air was especially obvious today. Paris muttered, "I
need to check the settings on that."
Vader suppressed a chuckle. The youngster was something of an artist,
creating this place. "Maybe there's a storm brewing?"
Tom laughed. "Maybe. I've been feeling uneasy lately -- maybe the
holodeck is picking up indications of rough space ahead."
"Rough space" was an expression Tom used for a number of nebulosities,
subspace ripples, and other irregularities that kept _Voyager_'s
journey "interesting."
"Do you have to fix it before lunch?"
---------------
Lunch was the venison Sullivan had mentioned the day before. Vader
tasted the dishes gingerly. The meat actually had taste to it, unlike some
of the replicator offerings. It reminded him faintly of roast bantha.
Sullivan watched as the large, well-dressed man picked daintily at the
food before giving in to his appetite. He brought a freshly drawn mug
of brew and set it on the table. "And are things to your liking, m'lud?"
Vader nodded, taking a gulp of beer to clear his mouth before
answering. "Yes. Very well done. The meals..." he corrected in mid-sentence,
"... on shipboard are nothing in comparison."
Sullivan grinned. "Thank you. m'lud."
Other customers drew Sullivan away. Vader satisfied his appetite and
sat nibbling on the remainder, sipping his beer. He looked around. The
others in the inn were Fair Haven residents rather than _Voyager_ crew.
Even Paris had disappeared.
"Sullivan."
The innkeeper appeared at Vader's elbow at once. "Yes, m'lud?"
"Brigid Murphy. Where is she?"
Sullivan hesitated. "It's her day off, m'lud. I can send one of the
lads to her house to see if she's there, if you wish."
Vader waved his hand. "No need. She lives in the town?"
"Over the hill, out near the river, m'lud. I can have one of the
lads..."
Vader shrugged. "Perhaps later." He pushed the meal away and sat
watching the fire, sipping at the mug of beer.
Damn. He was sure she'd be here. Perhaps ship duties interfered.
Without her real name, there was no way to query the computer.
The venison sat well in his stomach, as did the bread. He had been too
young when he left Tatooine to know much of their beer, but the other
tastes were certainly similar.
One of the barmaids cleared Vader's table of the venison, depositing a
bowl of some kind of red berries with thick cream spooned over them.
Vader studied the bowl through half-closed eyes. More of _Voyager_'s
taste for sweets. He could let it wait.
Familiar thought patterns intruded. Paris, then Kim. No Brigid. He was
_not_ going to ask Paris's help to track her down.
Ah. There. On the edge of town, as if she had just entered the
holoprogram. And he heard the inn's door open.
-----------
Brigid saw him, sitting by the fire, leaning back in his chair, his
feet stretched out before him. He looked like a big cat, one of the
leonids, maybe, or a giant panther -- relaxed but poised to react at the
least provocation. Definitely a wild animal, not one of the domesticated
Federation menfolk. Dangerous.
She smiled.
Sullivan nodded at her when he saw her walk in. From Michael's raised
eyebrow and slight nod toward Skywalker, the gentleman had asked about
her. Good. She _thought_ he had been interested -- wasn't sure why he
had shied off before.
She slid into the empty chair at Skywalker's table. "A fine afternoon,
my lord."
"Indeed it is."
His eyes opened. A fine, clear blue, and incredibly deep. She could
gaze into those eyes for hours -- if she didn't have other intentions.
"I see you've had Michael's venison pie. He has a fine hand with it,
does he not?"
"Yes, he does."
His eyes lingered on hers, then dropped to take in her figure and then
back up to her face. His smile was gentle, not eager. Brigid wasn't
sure whether that should worry her or not. The younger Star Fleet men
were a little too fast sometimes -- or slow, either from nerves or
because they were dense. The few older ones were spoken for, or too
dedicated to their work. Skywalker... fit neither category.
She had heard Tom call him "admiral," but he certainly wasn't like
any admiral _she_ had ever encountered. Star Fleet admirals were
accountable to too many layers above them. Skywalker gave the
impression of being under no one's command.
Her eyes lit on the bowl of berries and cream. "Not in the mood for
dessert, m'lord?"
His voice was a low rumble that gently rasped along her nerves like
a cat's tongue. "You're welcome to it. The venison pie ... I'm afraid
I filled up the corners with that first."
Brigid took one of the berries and dunked it into the heavy cream,
then put it on her tongue. The berry were from the airponics bay,
not replicated. She chewed it slowly, tasting the sweet and slight
tartness, the textures of the fibrous berry and the smooth cream.
Vader watched the woman. Padmé had never particularly enjoyed meals --
she was too subject to being called away to her duties during them.
A quiet meal was a rarity, much less a chance to appreciate the
sensual qualities of the food. This one... He could feel her
enjoying the berries, the cream.
She smiled at him. "I think it's too fine a day to be spending it
inside, m'lord. And if I stay here, I'll be having another bowl of
berries and cream, and then where would my figure be?"
As expected, her words provoked another top-to-bottom inspection. She
winked, "I think a stroll would help settle the meal. Do you agree,
m'lord?"
"Indeed." He sat forward in his chair, rose to his feet. "I take it
you have some favorite paths in mind? Something scenic?"
Her gentle laughter was answer enough for him.
---------------
Tom Paris saw Skywalker leaving Sullivan's with a young woman. She
looked familiar -- ah. The modified Brigid O'Donnell. McGinty?
Something Fair Havenish.
At least this one didn't have a pig herder for a betrothed. Tom
watched them walking slowly toward the edge of town, toward the
river and the far hills rather than the shore like he would have
expected. He started toward them, then pulled himself up short.
It had been quite a while since the rampage in sickbay. Tom didn't
see any reason to give Skywalker a genuine excuse to lose his temper.
So Skywalker had overcome his aversion to holograms? Interesting.
--------------
"I looked for you in the ship's records," Vader said, smiling slightly.
"And you found 'twas no Brigid Murphy amongst Katie O'Clare's folk?"
Her laugh was merry. Her face colored a little -- he had bothered to
look for her, outside Fair Haven.
"Correct. Surely, you do not think you can conceal yourself from the
rest of the crew?"
She turned and faced him, her hands on her hips, wisps of her hair
loose around her face. "M'lord, the others cannot tell a phantom of
light from flesh and blood. I have taken steps to change my looks
and my voice. Tom may suspect. The others do not."
A long silence. "And you do not choose to tell them. If one of your
crewmates had courted you here and won you..."
She interrupted gently, "I would tell him, before it went so far.
Katie's crew is a team -- I would not bushwhack someone I cared for."
It took Vader a moment to work over all the connotations of
"bushwhack."
When he had, he had sudden visions of being hijacked and held prisoner,
to be kept for... what?
"Did it happen?"
"Nearly, once. But before we did more than stroll on the beach, he
was lost." Her eyes searched the horizon, looking perhaps for a man
who would never return to her arms. "And I have no taste for phantoms
in my bed."
Vader snorted, but to himself, not aloud. Could _she_ tell? "And you
think I am real?"
She laughed, looking him up and down. "Tommy boy doesn't have that
good an imagination. Or the nerve to put someone like you in his
village -- you're near enough to his father that he'd shy away from
the idea."
"I see."
----------------
The stroll was conversation and an occasional touch. He held her arm
as they climbed a steep path in the woods, just before the trail opened
to a vista of rolling hills with open fields and small cottages.
She was breathing heavily at the top of the climb, and her face was
flushed. "A shame it is, that so paltry a climb should tax me so much."
"We can sit here and rest, if you like. It's a splendid view."
She smiled. The grass was green and lush, and gave under their feet.
-----------------
Even as an illusion, the open spaces soaked into the back of Vader's
mind, relaxing him. "Have you been to many worlds?"
The slight frown on her face -- he played over their conversation and
realized how she had tried to keep in character. "You've travelled to
other lands," he amended. "With Katie O'Clare."
"Aye. But none so beautiful as home."
He looked around. This could be Naboo, or Alderaan-that-was. Not his
home, but very nice. "Fair Haven is only another stop on your journey."
She nodded solemnly. "I judge from your words that you don't have a
young man waiting for you."
"There was none I cared for so much when I left. And even if I had...
Katie was spoken-for before we came here. But the journey will not end
while we may still find partners and have families. We must do that
along the way. Those we left behind know that."
Partners. Families. Vader suddenly wondered exactly how close to what
edge he might be. It had never occurred to him to look up ship's
regulations on mating. If he did more than "stroll" with Brigid, might
he find himself forced into something more permanent?
And would it be so bad if he were?
Yes. Until he was sure that he would be staying among these people, he
didn't want to leave any hostages to fortune. No more sons to be raised
to hate him...
Another snort. If he were healed enough to be fertile in the first
place, even if the physical responses were restored.
Would it really be so bad..?
They sat. His arm was around her shoulders as she pointed out whose
farms were in the valley beneath them. The animals below -- sheep? --
looked like tethered clouds wandering across a green sky.
The breeze had a bit of chill to it, and Brigid snuggled in closer.
His hand stroked her hair. He leaned his head against hers, inhaling
the scent of her hair. "Brigid..."
Her whispered, "Yes?" was a mere breeze against his cheek.
"Is one of those cottages empty? Somewhere where no one will be
wandering by on his own stroll?"
"I think so."
He helped her to her feet. The motion swung her into his arms. A long,
gentle embrace, moving into a soft kiss. She tasted of spice, and
sweet,
and flowers...
Something buzzed. She stiffened. She turned her head, spoke away from
him. "What is it?"
Nothing was audible to him, but she was obviously listening. "I see.
Tell him when he gets out, I'll break his _other_ leg for him."
She sighed. "M'lord, I have duties. I regret -- _deeply regret_ -- that
I must part company with you at this time. I beg your forgiveness."
And what would she do if he forbade her to go? No, let her go. Right
now, she regretted leaving him. Let it remain so. "Go, then. If you
do not find me here when you return, ask Tom of me. He generally knows
my whereabouts."
She nodded, dropped a quick curtsey... then gave him a quick peck on
his cheek. "Anything more, and I might forget my duties. Some other
time, m'lord."
---------
She was out of sight of him in the woods before she called for an exit
to get out of the holodeck. Damn Josephus for breaking his leg into
enough pieces that the doctor wanted to keep an eye on him for a full
day instead of simply patching him up and sending him back to duty.
She got back to her quarters and stripped off the Fair Haven clothing.
The full, red-tressed wig was a bit harder to disengage -- some of the
medical micro-sutures that held it on were time-locked. She had a
gadget in one of the drawers to reprogram them... here.
She dropped the red-haired wig onto its stand on her nighttable. She
shook her head and her own midnight black hair fell loose.
A quick trip to the sonic shower scoured the dermal colorant off,
leaving her skin duskier than the Celtic Brigid's. The hazel eyes were
the same, at least. And the shape of the face. But the short, almost
boyish cut of her hair, her usual voice range half an octave above
Brigid's, and the darker skin, with the uniform, should be disguise
enough.
It had been so far.
Lieutenant Louise Fortunati reported to the duty officer.
------
Vader wandered the woods for a while. A piece of twig caught his eye --
no, it was the fragment of a horn or antler, not wood. He rubbed it
clean of leaf-mold, then leaned down to rinse it in a stream. He used
to be a fair hand at carving. With replicators, these people could have
any items that were in the databanks, but something hand-crafted would
mean more than fine jewels as a gift.
He smiled.
----------
He had roughed the horn into a square when there was a faint buzz in
his ear. "Schedule reminder. Dinner with Captain Janeway in one hour."
"Acknowledged." He stood and brushed tiny shreds of horn from his lap.
"Computer! Exit!"
The scene before him rippled and froze. Closer than he imagined, a door
appeared, opening into one of _Voyager_'s corridors.
Barely three meters along the corridor, he felt his palm tingle. He
looked down. His carving project was dissolving in a sparkle that
looked like the replicator's recycler. He grabbed harder, but it was
gone.
Vader sighed. Tom had warned him about holodeck matter. The food in
Fair Haven was tied to the food replicators and was real. Other items
obviously were not. And outside the holoemitter range, they
disappeared,
like Sidhe gold touched by iron.
------------------
Seven reported to the captain in person rather than trusting her news
to the comm. "Admiral Skywalker is not who he represents himself to
be."
Janeway was annoyed. The pot roast was balking her again. She thought
she had it down, then the power would fluctuate, and she'd have raw
meat
or carbonized. A replicator meal was much more dependable, but... She
hissed as she scorched her finger.
"We knew he was hiding something. What have you found?"
Seven slipped the report into the commconsole and brought up a
recording.
Janeway stared, pot roast forgotten.
------------
"Chakotay, review this. Then report to my private dining room. You're
ostensibly another guest. I've talked to Tuvok..."
--------
"Computer, what would be a suitable guest-gift for a dinner?"
The computer stubbornly refused to understand him. Vader finally asked,
"What gift would be appropriate for a woman?"
The list was not unexpected -- flowers, wine, a book of poems...
"Computer. Give me some samples of poems." Then he added, thinking of
Brigid, "Love poems."
Vader wondered what the "universal translator" was actually doing to
the original writing. The words flowed, precise in some samples, vague
in others. Of course, _Voyager_ had literature from hundreds of
cultures.
"Five minute reminder. Dinner with Captain Janeway."
----------
By Iejasu and Miklinar
Music. Vader had asked the computer to vary its wake-up call and this
time it was some sort of orchestral music, fairly stirring. Vader
smiled. Something soothing would hardly do for a wake-up, would it.
Stretches, then the 'fresher for a pounding with a newly discovered
"needle spray" setting. The last time he felt something like that, it had
been sand, and had tried to remove his skin. But as water, it was
invigorating.
Paris joined him halfway to the dining room. "We're doing some
maintenance on a shuttle today. Then I've got helm all afternoon."
Vader nodded. "What's the difference between the flyer and a shuttle?"
Paris grinned. "Me."
-----------------
Vader looked around the dining hall. He didn't expect to see Brigid
there -- he was sure he'd have felt her presence before the door slid
open. But there was a scattering of familiar faces, folks who had been in
Fair Haven at the poetry reading. Some of them nodded amicably at him,
but turned back to their own conversations.
Paris brought a pair of plates over to the table. "These are good --
but don't tell Neelix I said so."
"Why not?"
"Because it'll encourage him to do more experimentation. _That_ could
cause a mutiny."
Vader shook his head. Such convoluted logic. Why didn't they just order
the cook not to experiment? But Paris was right. The food _was_ good.
------------
The shuttles were definitely of an older design. "The flyer has a lot
of innovations we picked up here in the Delta Quadrant. Including some
Borg ideas."
Vader remembered a discussion of "conduits" -- something he had filed
for later consideration, since he only barely had a handle on basic Star
Fleet warp drive technologies.
"How much different is the piloting?"
The work was intriguing, and Vader was actually surprised when Paris
called it to a halt. "Lunch. Fair Haven's open today -- want to make it
there? Or are you tired of it?"
A low rumble of laughter from the older man. "Fair Haven will suit very
well. I will meet you in front of the holodeck in fifteen minutes."
Tom wiped his hands on a none-too-clean rag and nodded. "I guess
cleaning up would be a good idea."
-------------
Vader studied himself in the mirror in his 'fresher. Females had been
an infrequent part of his life before he had reached _Voyager_ -- now
they were not only present, but sought his company! Although his exercise
session with Torres couldn't really be included in that category.
And Seven of Nine's dislike of him balanced his new-found truce with
Torres. Seven's attitude wouldn't be a problem by itself, but she seemed
determined to keep his youngest acquaintance from him.
---------------
The entrance to Fair Haven slid open. The two men strode in, trying to
get clear of the door as quickly as possible, to restore the ambience.
The salt in the air was especially obvious today. Paris muttered, "I
need to check the settings on that."
Vader suppressed a chuckle. The youngster was something of an artist,
creating this place. "Maybe there's a storm brewing?"
Tom laughed. "Maybe. I've been feeling uneasy lately -- maybe the
holodeck is picking up indications of rough space ahead."
"Rough space" was an expression Tom used for a number of nebulosities,
subspace ripples, and other irregularities that kept _Voyager_'s
journey "interesting."
"Do you have to fix it before lunch?"
---------------
Lunch was the venison Sullivan had mentioned the day before. Vader
tasted the dishes gingerly. The meat actually had taste to it, unlike some
of the replicator offerings. It reminded him faintly of roast bantha.
Sullivan watched as the large, well-dressed man picked daintily at the
food before giving in to his appetite. He brought a freshly drawn mug
of brew and set it on the table. "And are things to your liking, m'lud?"
Vader nodded, taking a gulp of beer to clear his mouth before
answering. "Yes. Very well done. The meals..." he corrected in mid-sentence,
"... on shipboard are nothing in comparison."
Sullivan grinned. "Thank you. m'lud."
Other customers drew Sullivan away. Vader satisfied his appetite and
sat nibbling on the remainder, sipping his beer. He looked around. The
others in the inn were Fair Haven residents rather than _Voyager_ crew.
Even Paris had disappeared.
"Sullivan."
The innkeeper appeared at Vader's elbow at once. "Yes, m'lud?"
"Brigid Murphy. Where is she?"
Sullivan hesitated. "It's her day off, m'lud. I can send one of the
lads to her house to see if she's there, if you wish."
Vader waved his hand. "No need. She lives in the town?"
"Over the hill, out near the river, m'lud. I can have one of the
lads..."
Vader shrugged. "Perhaps later." He pushed the meal away and sat
watching the fire, sipping at the mug of beer.
Damn. He was sure she'd be here. Perhaps ship duties interfered.
Without her real name, there was no way to query the computer.
The venison sat well in his stomach, as did the bread. He had been too
young when he left Tatooine to know much of their beer, but the other
tastes were certainly similar.
One of the barmaids cleared Vader's table of the venison, depositing a
bowl of some kind of red berries with thick cream spooned over them.
Vader studied the bowl through half-closed eyes. More of _Voyager_'s
taste for sweets. He could let it wait.
Familiar thought patterns intruded. Paris, then Kim. No Brigid. He was
_not_ going to ask Paris's help to track her down.
Ah. There. On the edge of town, as if she had just entered the
holoprogram. And he heard the inn's door open.
-----------
Brigid saw him, sitting by the fire, leaning back in his chair, his
feet stretched out before him. He looked like a big cat, one of the
leonids, maybe, or a giant panther -- relaxed but poised to react at the
least provocation. Definitely a wild animal, not one of the domesticated
Federation menfolk. Dangerous.
She smiled.
Sullivan nodded at her when he saw her walk in. From Michael's raised
eyebrow and slight nod toward Skywalker, the gentleman had asked about
her. Good. She _thought_ he had been interested -- wasn't sure why he
had shied off before.
She slid into the empty chair at Skywalker's table. "A fine afternoon,
my lord."
"Indeed it is."
His eyes opened. A fine, clear blue, and incredibly deep. She could
gaze into those eyes for hours -- if she didn't have other intentions.
"I see you've had Michael's venison pie. He has a fine hand with it,
does he not?"
"Yes, he does."
His eyes lingered on hers, then dropped to take in her figure and then
back up to her face. His smile was gentle, not eager. Brigid wasn't
sure whether that should worry her or not. The younger Star Fleet men were
a little too fast sometimes -- or slow, either from nerves or because
they were dense. The few older ones were spoken for, or too dedicated to
their work. Skywalker... fit neither category.
She had heard Tom call him "admiral," but he certainly wasn't like any
admiral _she_ had ever encountered. Star Fleet admirals were
accountable to too many layers above them. Skywalker gave the impression of being
under no one's command.
Her eyes lit on the bowl of berries and cream. "Not in the mood for
dessert, m'lord?"
His voice was a low rumble that gently rasped along her nerves like a
cat's tongue. "You're welcome to it. The venison pie ... I'm afraid I
filled up the corners with that first."
Brigid took one of the berries and dunked it into the heavy cream, then
put it on her tongue. The berry were from the airponics bay, not
replicated. She chewed it slowly, tasting the sweet and slight tartness, the
textures of the fibrous berry and the smooth cream.
Vader watched the woman. Padmé had never particularly enjoyed meals --
she was too subject to being called away to her duties during them. A
quiet meal was a rarity, much less a chance to appreciate the sensual
qualities of the food. This one... He could feel her enjoying the
berries, the cream.
She smiled at him. "I think it's too fine a day to be spending it
inside, m'lord. And if I stay here, I'll be having another bowl of berries
and cream, and then where would my figure be?"
As expected, her words provoked another top-to-bottom inspection. She
winked, "I think a stroll would help settle the meal. Do you agree,
m'lord?"
"Indeed." He sat forward in his chair, rose to his feet. "I take it you
have some favorite paths in mind? Something scenic?"
Her gentle laughter was answer enough for him.
---------------
Tom Paris saw Skywalker leaving Sullivan's with a young woman. She
looked familiar -- ah. The modified Brigid O'Donnell. McGinty? Something
Fair Havenish.
At least this one didn't have a pig herder for a betrothed. Tom watched
them walking slowly toward the edge of town, toward the river and the
far hills rather than the shore like he would have expected. He started
toward them, then pulled himself up short. It had been quite a while
since the rampage in sickbay. Tom didn't see any reason to give Skywalker
a genuine excuse to lose his temper.
So Skywalker had overcome his aversion to holograms? Interesting.
--------------
"I looked for you in the ship's records," Vader said, smiling slightly.
"And you found 'twas no Brigid Murphy amongst Katie O'Clare's folk?"
Her laugh was merry. Her face colored a little -- he had bothered to look
for her, outside Fair Haven.
"Correct. Surely, you do not think you can conceal yourself from the
rest of the crew?"
She turned and faced him, her hands on her hips, wisps of her hair
loose around her face. "M'lord, the others cannot tell a phantom of light
from flesh and blood. I have taken steps to change my looks and my
voice. Tom may suspect. The others do not."
A long silence. "And you do not choose to tell them. If one of your
crewmates had courted you here and won you..."
She interrupted gently, "I would tell him, before it went so far.
Katie's crew is a team -- I would not bushwhack someone I cared for."
It took Vader a moment to work over all the connotations of
"bushwhack." When he had, he had sudden visions of being hijacked and held
prisoner, to be kept for... what?
"Did it happen?"
"Nearly, once. But before we did more than stroll on the beach, he was
lost." Her eyes searched the horizon, looking perhaps for a man who
would never return to her arms. "And I have no taste for phantoms in my
bed."
Vader snorted, but to himself, not aloud. Could _she_ tell? "And you
think I am real?"
She laughed, looking him up and down. "Tommy boy doesn't have that good
an imagination. Or the nerve to put someone like you in his village --
you're near enough to his father that he'd shy away from the idea."
"I see."
----------------
The stroll was conversation and an occasional touch. He held her arm as
they climbed a steep path in the woods, just before the trail opened to
a vista of rolling hills with open fields and small cottages.
She was breathing heavily at the top of the climb, and her face was
flushed. "A shame it is, that so paltry a climb should tax me so much."
"We can sit here and rest, if you like. It's a splendid view."
She smiled. The grass was green and lush, and gave under their feet.
-----------------
Even as an illusion, the open spaces soaked into the back of Vader's
mind, relaxing him. "Have you been to many worlds?"
The slight frown on her face -- he played over their conversation and
realized how she had tried to keep in character. "You've travelled to
other lands," he amended. "With Katie O'Clare."
"Aye. But none so beautiful as home."
He looked around. This could be Naboo, or Alderaan-that-was. Not his
home, but very nice. "Fair Haven is only another stop on your journey."
She nodded solemnly. "I judge from your words that you don't have a
young man waiting for you."
"There was none I cared for so much when I left. And even if I had...
Katie was spoken-for before we came here. But the journey will not end
while we may still find partners and have families. We must do that
along the way. Those we left behind know that."
Partners. Families. Vader suddenly wondered exactly how close to what
edge he might be. It had never occurred to him to look up ship's
regulations on mating. If he did more than "stroll" with Brigid, might he find
himself forced into something more permanent?
And would it be so bad if he were?
Yes. Until he was sure that he would be staying among these people, he
didn't want to leave any hostages to fortune. No more sons to be raised
to hate him...
Another snort. If he were healed enough to be fertile in the first
place, even if the physical responses were restored.
Would it really be so bad..?
They sat. His arm was around her shoulders as she pointed out whose
farms were in the valley beneath them. The animals below -- sheep? --
looked like tethered clouds wandering across a green sky.
The breeze had a bit of chill to it, and Brigid snuggled in closer. His
hand stroked her hair. He leaned his head against hers, inhaling the
scent of her hair. "Brigid..."
Her whispered, "Yes?" was a mere breeze against his cheek.
"Is one of those cottages empty? Somewhere where no one will be
wandering by on his own stroll?"
"I think so."
He helped her to her feet. The motion swung her into his arms. A long,
gentle embrace, moving into a soft kiss. She tasted of spice, and
sweet, and flowers...
Something buzzed. She stiffened. She turned her head, spoke away from
him. "What is it?"
Nothing was audible to him, but she was obviously listening. "I see.
Tell him when he gets out, I'll break his _other_ leg for him."
She sighed. "M'lord, I have duties. I regret -- _deeply regret_ -- that
I must part company with you at this time. I beg your forgiveness."
And what would she do if he forbade her to go? No, let her go. Right
now, she regretted leaving him. Let it remain so. "Go, then. If you do
not find me here when you return, ask Tom of me. He generally knows my
whereabouts."
She nodded, dropped a quick curtsey... then gave him a quick peck on
his cheek. "Anything more, and I might forget my duties. Some other time,
m'lord."
---------
She was out of sight of him in the woods before she called for an exit
to get out of the holodeck. Damn Josephus for breaking his leg into
enough pieces that the doctor wanted to keep an eye on him for a full day
instead of simply patching him up and sending him back to duty.
She got back to her quarters and stripped off the Fair Haven clothing.
The full, red-tressed wig was a bit harder to disengage -- some of the
medical micro-sutures that held it on were time-locked. She had a
gadget in one of the drawers to reprogram them... here.
She dropped the red-haired wig onto its stand on her nighttable. She
shook her head and her own midnight black hair fell loose.
A quick trip to the sonic shower scoured the dermal colorant off,
leaving her skin duskier than the Celtic Brigid's. The hazel eyes were the
same, at least. And the shape of the face. But the short, almost boyish
cut of her hair, her usual voice range half an octave above Brigid's,
and the darker skin, with the uniform, should be disguise enough.
It had been so far.
Lieutenant Louise Fortunati reported to the duty officer.
------
Vader wandered the woods for a while. A piece of twig caught his eye --
no, it was the fragment of a horn or antler, not wood. He rubbed it
clean of leaf-mold, then leaned down to rinse it in a stream. He used to
be a fair hand at carving. With replicators, these people could have any
items that were in the databanks, but something hand-crafted would mean
more than fine jewels as a gift.
He smiled.
----------
He had roughed the horn into a square when there was a faint buzz in
his ear. "Schedule reminder. Dinner with Captain Janeway in one hour."
"Acknowledged." He stood and brushed tiny shreds of horn from his lap.
"Computer! Exit!"
The scene before him rippled and froze. Closer than he imagined, a door
appeared, opening into one of _Voyager_'s corridors.
Barely three meters along the corridor, he felt his palm tingle. He
looked down. His carving project was dissolving in a sparkle that looked
like the replicator's recycler. He grabbed harder, but it was gone.
Vader sighed. Tom had warned him about holodeck matter. The food in
Fair Haven was tied to the food replicators and was real. Other items
obviously were not. And outside the holoemitter range, they disappeared,
like Sidhe gold touched by iron.
------------------
Seven reported to the captain in person rather than trusting her news
to the comm. "Admiral Skywalker is not who he represents himself to be."
Janeway was annoyed. The pot roast was balking her again. She thought
she had it down, then the power would fluctuate, and she'd have raw meat
or carbonized. A replicator meal was much more dependable, but... She
hissed as she scorched her finger.
"We knew he was hiding something. What have you found?"
Seven slipped the report into the commconsole and brought up a
recording. Janeway stared, pot roast forgotten.
------------
"Chakotay, review this. Then report to my private dining room. You're
ostensibly another guest. I've talked to Tuvok..."
--------
"Computer, what would be a suitable guest-gift for a dinner?"
The computer stubbornly refused to understand him. Vader finally asked,
"What gift would be appropriate for a woman?"
The list was not unexpected -- flowers, wine, a book of poems...
"Computer. Give me some samples of poems." Then he added, thinking of Brigid,
"Love poems."
Vader wondered what the "universal translator" was actually doing to
the original writing. The words flowed, precise in some samples, vague in
others. Of course, _Voyager_ had literature from hundreds of cultures.
"Five minute reminder. Dinner with Captain Janeway."
----------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Music. Vader had asked the computer to vary its wake-up call and this
time it was some sort of orchestral music, fairly stirring. Vader
smiled. Something soothing would hardly do for a wake-up, would it.
Stretches, then the 'fresher for a pounding with a newly discovered
"needle spray" setting. The last time he felt something like that, it had
been sand, and had tried to remove his skin. But as water, it was
invigorating.
Paris joined him halfway to the dining room. "We're doing some
maintenance on a shuttle today. Then I've got helm all afternoon."
Vader nodded. "What's the difference between the flyer and a shuttle?"
Paris grinned. "Me."
-----------------
Vader looked around the dining hall. He didn't expect to see Brigid
there -- he was sure he'd have felt her presence before the door slid
open. But there was a scattering of familiar faces, folks who had been in
Fair Haven at the poetry reading. Some of them nodded amicably at him,
but turned back to their own conversations.
Paris brought a pair of plates over to the table. "These are good --
but don't tell Neelix I said so."
"Why not?"
"Because it'll encourage him to do more experimentation. _That_ could
cause a mutiny."
Vader shook his head. Such convoluted logic. Why didn't they just order
the cook not to experiment? But Paris was right. The food _was_ good.
------------
The shuttles were definitely of an older design. "The flyer has a lot
of innovations we picked up here in the Delta Quadrant. Including some
Borg ideas."
Vader remembered a discussion of "conduits" -- something he had filed
for later consideration, since he only barely had a handle on basic Star
Fleet warp drive technologies.
"How much different is the piloting?"
The work was intriguing, and Vader was actually surprised when Paris
called it to a halt. "Lunch. Fair Haven's open today -- want to make it
there? Or are you tired of it?"
A low rumble of laughter from the older man. "Fair Haven will suit very
well. I will meet you in front of the holodeck in fifteen minutes."
Tom wiped his hands on a none-too-clean rag and nodded. "I guess
cleaning up would be a good idea."
-------------
Vader studied himself in the mirror in his 'fresher. Females had been
an infrequent part of his life before he had reached _Voyager_ -- now
they were not only present, but sought his company! Although his exercise
session with Torres couldn't really be included in that category.
And Seven of Nine's dislike of him balanced his new-found truce with
Torres. Seven's attitude wouldn't be a problem by itself, but she seemed
determined to keep his youngest acquaintance from him.
---------------
The entrance to Fair Haven slid open. The two men strode in, trying to
get clear of the door as quickly as possible, to restore the ambience.
The salt in the air was especially obvious today. Paris muttered, "I
need to check the settings on that."
Vader suppressed a chuckle. The youngster was something of an artist,
creating this place. "Maybe there's a storm brewing?"
Tom laughed. "Maybe. I've been feeling uneasy lately -- maybe the
holodeck is picking up indications of rough space ahead."
"Rough space" was an expression Tom used for a number of nebulosities,
subspace ripples, and other irregularities that kept _Voyager_'s
journey "interesting."
"Do you have to fix it before lunch?"
---------------
Lunch was the venison Sullivan had mentioned the day before. Vader
tasted the dishes gingerly. The meat actually had taste to it, unlike some
of the replicator offerings. It reminded him faintly of roast bantha.
Sullivan watched as the large, well-dressed man picked daintily at the
food before giving in to his appetite. He brought a freshly drawn mug
of brew and set it on the table. "And are things to your liking, m'lud?"
Vader nodded, taking a gulp of beer to clear his mouth before
answering. "Yes. Very well done. The meals..." he corrected in mid-sentence,
"... on shipboard are nothing in comparison."
Sullivan grinned. "Thank you. m'lud."
Other customers drew Sullivan away. Vader satisfied his appetite and
sat nibbling on the remainder, sipping his beer. He looked around. The
others in the inn were Fair Haven residents rather than _Voyager_ crew.
Even Paris had disappeared.
"Sullivan."
The innkeeper appeared at Vader's elbow at once. "Yes, m'lud?"
"Brigid Murphy. Where is she?"
Sullivan hesitated. "It's her day off, m'lud. I can send one of the
lads to her house to see if she's there, if you wish."
Vader waved his hand. "No need. She lives in the town?"
"Over the hill, out near the river, m'lud. I can have one of the
lads..."
Vader shrugged. "Perhaps later." He pushed the meal away and sat
watching the fire, sipping at the mug of beer.
Damn. He was sure she'd be here. Perhaps ship duties interfered.
Without her real name, there was no way to query the computer.
The venison sat well in his stomach, as did the bread. He had been too
young when he left Tatooine to know much of their beer, but the other
tastes were certainly similar.
One of the barmaids cleared Vader's table of the venison, depositing a
bowl of some kind of red berries with thick cream spooned over them.
Vader studied the bowl through half-closed eyes. More of _Voyager_'s
taste for sweets. He could let it wait.
Familiar thought patterns intruded. Paris, then Kim. No Brigid. He was
_not_ going to ask Paris's help to track her down.
Ah. There. On the edge of town, as if she had just entered the
holoprogram. And he heard the inn's door open.
-----------
Brigid saw him, sitting by the fire, leaning back in his chair, his
feet stretched out before him. He looked like a big cat, one of the
leonids, maybe, or a giant panther -- relaxed but poised to react at the
least provocation. Definitely a wild animal, not one of the domesticated
Federation menfolk. Dangerous.
She smiled.
Sullivan nodded at her when he saw her walk in. From Michael's raised
eyebrow and slight nod toward Skywalker, the gentleman had asked about
her. Good. She _thought_ he had been interested -- wasn't sure why he
had shied off before.
She slid into the empty chair at Skywalker's table. "A fine afternoon,
my lord."
"Indeed it is."
His eyes opened. A fine, clear blue, and incredibly deep. She could
gaze into those eyes for hours -- if she didn't have other intentions.
"I see you've had Michael's venison pie. He has a fine hand with it,
does he not?"
"Yes, he does."
His eyes lingered on hers, then dropped to take in her figure and then
back up to her face. His smile was gentle, not eager. Brigid wasn't
sure whether that should worry her or not. The younger Star Fleet men
were a little too fast sometimes -- or slow, either from nerves or
because they were dense. The few older ones were spoken for, or too
dedicated to their work. Skywalker... fit neither category.
She had heard Tom call him "admiral," but he certainly wasn't like
any admiral _she_ had ever encountered. Star Fleet admirals were
accountable to too many layers above them. Skywalker gave the
impression of being under no one's command.
Her eyes lit on the bowl of berries and cream. "Not in the mood for
dessert, m'lord?"
His voice was a low rumble that gently rasped along her nerves like
a cat's tongue. "You're welcome to it. The venison pie ... I'm afraid
I filled up the corners with that first."
Brigid took one of the berries and dunked it into the heavy cream,
then put it on her tongue. The berry were from the airponics bay,
not replicated. She chewed it slowly, tasting the sweet and slight
tartness, the textures of the fibrous berry and the smooth cream.
Vader watched the woman. Padmé had never particularly enjoyed meals --
she was too subject to being called away to her duties during them.
A quiet meal was a rarity, much less a chance to appreciate the
sensual qualities of the food. This one... He could feel her
enjoying the berries, the cream.
She smiled at him. "I think it's too fine a day to be spending it
inside, m'lord. And if I stay here, I'll be having another bowl of
berries and cream, and then where would my figure be?"
As expected, her words provoked another top-to-bottom inspection. She
winked, "I think a stroll would help settle the meal. Do you agree,
m'lord?"
"Indeed." He sat forward in his chair, rose to his feet. "I take it
you have some favorite paths in mind? Something scenic?"
Her gentle laughter was answer enough for him.
---------------
Tom Paris saw Skywalker leaving Sullivan's with a young woman. She
looked familiar -- ah. The modified Brigid O'Donnell. McGinty?
Something Fair Havenish.
At least this one didn't have a pig herder for a betrothed. Tom
watched them walking slowly toward the edge of town, toward the
river and the far hills rather than the shore like he would have
expected. He started toward them, then pulled himself up short.
It had been quite a while since the rampage in sickbay. Tom didn't
see any reason to give Skywalker a genuine excuse to lose his temper.
So Skywalker had overcome his aversion to holograms? Interesting.
--------------
"I looked for you in the ship's records," Vader said, smiling slightly.
"And you found 'twas no Brigid Murphy amongst Katie O'Clare's folk?"
Her laugh was merry. Her face colored a little -- he had bothered to
look for her, outside Fair Haven.
"Correct. Surely, you do not think you can conceal yourself from the
rest of the crew?"
She turned and faced him, her hands on her hips, wisps of her hair
loose around her face. "M'lord, the others cannot tell a phantom of
light from flesh and blood. I have taken steps to change my looks
and my voice. Tom may suspect. The others do not."
A long silence. "And you do not choose to tell them. If one of your
crewmates had courted you here and won you..."
She interrupted gently, "I would tell him, before it went so far.
Katie's crew is a team -- I would not bushwhack someone I cared for."
It took Vader a moment to work over all the connotations of
"bushwhack."
When he had, he had sudden visions of being hijacked and held prisoner,
to be kept for... what?
"Did it happen?"
"Nearly, once. But before we did more than stroll on the beach, he
was lost." Her eyes searched the horizon, looking perhaps for a man
who would never return to her arms. "And I have no taste for phantoms
in my bed."
Vader snorted, but to himself, not aloud. Could _she_ tell? "And you
think I am real?"
She laughed, looking him up and down. "Tommy boy doesn't have that
good an imagination. Or the nerve to put someone like you in his
village -- you're near enough to his father that he'd shy away from
the idea."
"I see."
----------------
The stroll was conversation and an occasional touch. He held her arm
as they climbed a steep path in the woods, just before the trail opened
to a vista of rolling hills with open fields and small cottages.
She was breathing heavily at the top of the climb, and her face was
flushed. "A shame it is, that so paltry a climb should tax me so much."
"We can sit here and rest, if you like. It's a splendid view."
She smiled. The grass was green and lush, and gave under their feet.
-----------------
Even as an illusion, the open spaces soaked into the back of Vader's
mind, relaxing him. "Have you been to many worlds?"
The slight frown on her face -- he played over their conversation and
realized how she had tried to keep in character. "You've travelled to
other lands," he amended. "With Katie O'Clare."
"Aye. But none so beautiful as home."
He looked around. This could be Naboo, or Alderaan-that-was. Not his
home, but very nice. "Fair Haven is only another stop on your journey."
She nodded solemnly. "I judge from your words that you don't have a
young man waiting for you."
"There was none I cared for so much when I left. And even if I had...
Katie was spoken-for before we came here. But the journey will not end
while we may still find partners and have families. We must do that
along the way. Those we left behind know that."
Partners. Families. Vader suddenly wondered exactly how close to what
edge he might be. It had never occurred to him to look up ship's
regulations on mating. If he did more than "stroll" with Brigid, might
he find himself forced into something more permanent?
And would it be so bad if he were?
Yes. Until he was sure that he would be staying among these people, he
didn't want to leave any hostages to fortune. No more sons to be raised
to hate him...
Another snort. If he were healed enough to be fertile in the first
place, even if the physical responses were restored.
Would it really be so bad..?
They sat. His arm was around her shoulders as she pointed out whose
farms were in the valley beneath them. The animals below -- sheep? --
looked like tethered clouds wandering across a green sky.
The breeze had a bit of chill to it, and Brigid snuggled in closer.
His hand stroked her hair. He leaned his head against hers, inhaling
the scent of her hair. "Brigid..."
Her whispered, "Yes?" was a mere breeze against his cheek.
"Is one of those cottages empty? Somewhere where no one will be
wandering by on his own stroll?"
"I think so."
He helped her to her feet. The motion swung her into his arms. A long,
gentle embrace, moving into a soft kiss. She tasted of spice, and
sweet,
and flowers...
Something buzzed. She stiffened. She turned her head, spoke away from
him. "What is it?"
Nothing was audible to him, but she was obviously listening. "I see.
Tell him when he gets out, I'll break his _other_ leg for him."
She sighed. "M'lord, I have duties. I regret -- _deeply regret_ -- that
I must part company with you at this time. I beg your forgiveness."
And what would she do if he forbade her to go? No, let her go. Right
now, she regretted leaving him. Let it remain so. "Go, then. If you
do not find me here when you return, ask Tom of me. He generally knows
my whereabouts."
She nodded, dropped a quick curtsey... then gave him a quick peck on
his cheek. "Anything more, and I might forget my duties. Some other
time, m'lord."
---------
She was out of sight of him in the woods before she called for an exit
to get out of the holodeck. Damn Josephus for breaking his leg into
enough pieces that the doctor wanted to keep an eye on him for a full
day instead of simply patching him up and sending him back to duty.
She got back to her quarters and stripped off the Fair Haven clothing.
The full, red-tressed wig was a bit harder to disengage -- some of the
medical micro-sutures that held it on were time-locked. She had a
gadget in one of the drawers to reprogram them... here.
She dropped the red-haired wig onto its stand on her nighttable. She
shook her head and her own midnight black hair fell loose.
A quick trip to the sonic shower scoured the dermal colorant off,
leaving her skin duskier than the Celtic Brigid's. The hazel eyes were
the same, at least. And the shape of the face. But the short, almost
boyish cut of her hair, her usual voice range half an octave above
Brigid's, and the darker skin, with the uniform, should be disguise
enough.
It had been so far.
Lieutenant Louise Fortunati reported to the duty officer.
------
Vader wandered the woods for a while. A piece of twig caught his eye --
no, it was the fragment of a horn or antler, not wood. He rubbed it
clean of leaf-mold, then leaned down to rinse it in a stream. He used
to be a fair hand at carving. With replicators, these people could have
any items that were in the databanks, but something hand-crafted would
mean more than fine jewels as a gift.
He smiled.
----------
He had roughed the horn into a square when there was a faint buzz in
his ear. "Schedule reminder. Dinner with Captain Janeway in one hour."
"Acknowledged." He stood and brushed tiny shreds of horn from his lap.
"Computer! Exit!"
The scene before him rippled and froze. Closer than he imagined, a door
appeared, opening into one of _Voyager_'s corridors.
Barely three meters along the corridor, he felt his palm tingle. He
looked down. His carving project was dissolving in a sparkle that
looked like the replicator's recycler. He grabbed harder, but it was
gone.
Vader sighed. Tom had warned him about holodeck matter. The food in
Fair Haven was tied to the food replicators and was real. Other items
obviously were not. And outside the holoemitter range, they
disappeared,
like Sidhe gold touched by iron.
------------------
Seven reported to the captain in person rather than trusting her news
to the comm. "Admiral Skywalker is not who he represents himself to
be."
Janeway was annoyed. The pot roast was balking her again. She thought
she had it down, then the power would fluctuate, and she'd have raw
meat
or carbonized. A replicator meal was much more dependable, but... She
hissed as she scorched her finger.
"We knew he was hiding something. What have you found?"
Seven slipped the report into the commconsole and brought up a
recording.
Janeway stared, pot roast forgotten.
------------
"Chakotay, review this. Then report to my private dining room. You're
ostensibly another guest. I've talked to Tuvok..."
--------
"Computer, what would be a suitable guest-gift for a dinner?"
The computer stubbornly refused to understand him. Vader finally asked,
"What gift would be appropriate for a woman?"
The list was not unexpected -- flowers, wine, a book of poems...
"Computer. Give me some samples of poems." Then he added, thinking of
Brigid, "Love poems."
Vader wondered what the "universal translator" was actually doing to
the original writing. The words flowed, precise in some samples, vague
in others. Of course, _Voyager_ had literature from hundreds of
cultures.
"Five minute reminder. Dinner with Captain Janeway."
----------