Five Months Ago

Varian Presidential Palace

When she emerged from the bedroom the next morning clothed in yesterday's dinner dress, Aalin lingered at the doorway on hearing Chris speak rapidly into his communicator. He flashed a smile and beckoned her forward by curling fingers into his palm.

"... if there's another flyby, go to tactical yellow alert. I'd wager they're testing boundaries and won't get too close. Don't hesitate to skedaddle if you need room to maneuver. We can see to ourselves until you pick us up on the back side," he ordered before muting the communication link. To Aalin who was now standing by his side Chris asked in a soft voice, "Need anything from the ship?"

She shook her head.

Activating the microphone he said, "Okay, that's all. Next check-in is in eight hours." He flipped the communicator shut then turned to her. "Hey."

"Hey."

He moved to a table laden with dishes and a silver pot and after a few preparations handed Aalin a cup filled with coffee. "Heavy on the cream, no sugar. Ablick canceled our breakfast meeting. Which is for the best I think."

"Shall we go through your briefing?" she asked after settling on one of the sofas.

"Food first, then work." He set a plate for her on the low table and took a seat on the opposite sofa. "Any more bad dreams?"

That coaxed a faint smile. "No, you chased them all away."

"All part of the service."

Her smile deepened. "Above and beyond on your part I think, but I'm grateful."

Chris sipped from his own cup. He knew the reprieve was temporary and during this morning's call to the ship lined up more substantial help for her. "You seem … uneasy," he said after close scrutiny.

"During high-stakes meetings the State Department typically assigns two interpreters. One to translate and one to listen for mistakes. I wish the Varians permitted that here," Aalin replied as she absentmindedly stirred her coffee then fidgeted with the cup and saucer.

"Another of their attempts to make this harder for us." He leaned forward and waited for her full attention. "Take all the time you need. Set your own pace. Don't let our hosts call all the shots. There's nothing wrong with silence."

She nodded. "That will be easier in the one-on-one meetings between you and Ablick. But tricky today."

"How so?"

"The Varians demanded simultaneous translation during the plenary sessions," she explained. "I'll sit by your side and quietly deliver the interpretation to you in real-time."

"Why?"

"This style maintains the flow of the speech as the speaker doesn't have to break their cadence while waiting for a section to be translated. Or take a chance of losing their place in the text."

"Meaning you will be listening to the speech, translating in your head the bit said a few seconds before, while speaking the bit before that to me?" A pause. "All at the same time?" Chris emphasized eyebrows slightly raised.

"Yes. There's typically only a thirty second delay between their words and your translation. Which provides better context since you'll hear the interpretation closer to when their words were spoken. Though I'll try to reflect their emphasis and inflections in my translation."

He leaned back against the chair and crossed his legs. "Making this easier for the Varians and tougher for you. I'm not paying you enough."

"You're not paying me at all," Aalin pointed out. "And dimples aren't currency," she added with a chuckle when Chris bestowed his most charming smile.

He was about to counter the tease when the security officer from Enterprise arrived.

"Sir."

"Lieutenant," Pike replied to the tall, wiry, dark-haired human male then introduced, "John Smith, Ms. Matthews."

"Ma'am." John handed her one of the two duffle bags he carried. "Christine Chapel assures she packed it with what you really needed rather than relying on the woefully inadequate list the Captain provided."

"Please, it's Aalin, and thank you."

Pike cleared his throat. "What's so complicated about it? Her version of a uniform and work materials."

Simultaneously John shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Clueless." Then asked his superior officer, "And tonight's reception?"

Aalin's eyes crinkled.

"We're attending it," Pike replied baffled at the query.

"Clueless," John pronounced again. "Not all of us are stodgy, older …" he glanced at Pike's frown and quickly amended, "I mean well-seasoned commanders and therefore change into something less … work related … for parties."

Pike snorted.

John placed the second duffle bag on the floor making a big show of nearly dropping as if unbalanced due to its heavy weight. He winked at Aalin. "Though our commander uses more hair products than you do."

That remark overcame her control and Aalin chuckled as she disappeared into the bedroom to change.

"Nice skit," Pike said softly, his tone serious. "Well done."

"Well done yourself sir, that scowl felt real. I almost worried for my stripe." John glanced at the bedroom's closed door. "She looks nervous."

Pike sighed, his frustration evident. "Yeah. While there is plenty of room for a mistake of mine to damage these negotiations, most of the responsibility for their success sits on her shoulders. And there is little I can do to lessen that load. Instead, I've pushed her, hard." His voice quieted further and his eyes drifted to closed bedroom door. "Perhaps too hard."

"Hmmm." After scrutinizing his commander, John decided Pike could use a distraction as well. "So you thought I was joking about the hair products."

The returned expression was incredulous accompanied by a cocked eyebrow.

"Wanna know who's ahead in the betting pool of how many phaser blasts Enterprise has to absorb before one hair on your head shifts out of place? Or the volume deflates? Me. That's who. I picked 'it'll never happen, not even if hell freezes over, not even if the Klingons join the Federation.' Spock is a close second. Lucero originated and arbitrates the contest."

Pike retrieved his bag from the floor. "Remind me again why I've not demoted you?" he mock growled.

Without missing a beat, with a grin, John replied, "Because I'm the only one on board the ship who plays chess so badly you can beat me."

"True."

ooooo

Present

Day 4

Noohra

With the milk from the para and the food she'd gathered from the bombed and abandoned villages, after three days of limited Federation ready to eat meal rations, the children, even the babies and toddlers, were sated. Tummies full, happy with the surprise sweet Li had prepared with the apples, tired from a long day of walking, they quickly settled and then nodded off during the evening's story.

In her nightly ritual, Aalin walked among the rows of mats, tucking blankets around the children, smoothing hair from their foreheads, muttering reassurances to ones waking from bad dreams, checking for scrapes and bruises.

And noticed a new problem.

The children in Noohra' northern mountains wore shoes made from strips of cloth, or, if fortunate, animal hides. Those at the orphanage had resisted wearing the Federation's more rigid replacements preferring their native footwear instead. Yet, for many of the children living at the orphanage, when they arrived their shoes were already in poor shape: threadbare, holes worn into the soles, and toes peeping out the front. And in their quick exodus on the day of the cease-fire, the sturdier Federation replacements were left behind.

The result of walking over rough terrain nearly fifty miles in four days: these native shoes were not only falling apart at the seams they were more fragment than whole.

Aalin retreated away from the sleeping children and signaled for the teenagers to join her. Then spoke in a voice barely louder than a whisper, "The children are going to need replacement shoes for the trails over the rockier, higher peaks." She sat on the ground, unwinding the strips protecting her feet leaving them bare, handing the pieces of sturdy cloth to Magda. "These should be enough for three or four of the smaller children. Use them carefully, only when there is no other choice."

Magda shook her head and sunk to her knees in front of Aalin intending to rewrap the cloth. Aalin shook her head and gently pushed Magda's hands back reassuring the young girl, "I'll be ok." She patted the ground so the other two would join; the four formed a circle.

"With the cold nights, we can't sacrifice clothing or blankets to make shoes," Aalin said. "Tomorrow I'll again search abandoned villages for supplies while you keep the children moving south."

"I'm coming with you," Benjamin announced.

"No." Aalin placed a hand on his arm and smiled to soften her refusal. "Thank you. But no. There are now one hundred and thirty-seven children in our care. Magda and Li need your help more. And we still have two days through these foothills before reaching the next mountain range."

She continued, "Micah warned several Aschaski battalions are at our backs. They are getting closer every hour. The narrow trails over the higher peaks will negate some of their advantage. I know this isn't easy but try to hurry the children tomorrow. Keep them focused. And keep them together. When playing they could wander into the path of a forward squad."

Aalin could see the fear in their eyes bordering on hopelessness. This isn't right, she thought, teenagers shouldn't carry these truths nor be required to step up to such heavy responsibilities. At that age, my biggest worries were grades and recitals. Damn it Chris, how do you manage to inspire people? In this moment I need you and your talent.

Deciding words were inadequate to the task, she looked each one in the eye, one by one, holding their gaze for a few seconds, clasping their hands. "Benjamin, you know this area best. Help us pick a rendezvous point."

Using a stick, he drew a map in the dirt representing the surrounding area with the location of villages, identifying landmarks Aalin could use to reconnect with the group. "Here," he pointed, "Meet us here. It's a small forest. Good cover for the night. A creek with safe water."

Aalin nodded. "Well done. Go sleep, I'll take the first watch." After they left, she rubbed her aching neck and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, huddling into it to ward off the night's chill. Their surroundings were quiet and dark with both moons in their new phase of this planet's lunar cycle. The silence was unnerving. Where are the buzzing insects? The crickets? The night birds? Is this normal on Noohra? Should I be concerned? I've spent two months here, I ought to know.

But that was in a busy mobile surgical hospital with sounds unique to its purpose. I never spent nights in the open. Here or on Earth. No camping in my childhood. Would have come in handy.

Any deviation from expected or so called normal bothered her. Each day she felt safety slipped a little further from reach. Worry now was her consistent and loudest companion. Dispiritedness settled in her mind withstanding all attempts to push it away. In these moments she missed Chris most.

As if listening his voice echoed in her head, 'Travel in hope. Always travel in hope.'