A/N: Phew, I made it to Thanksgiving break! Sorry this update took so long. Expect the next chapter to be out much sooner!
Zara08-Omg "commander gets commando" made me laugh so hard! Hahaha I love your reviews every time!
Jleto-Aww glad you liked it! I wanted to explore the difference between her relationship with Troi and her relationship with Riker. I'll have to do that more in the future, too :-)
Bnewall1-Yay! Love to hear that you're loving it! I feel like Carmen would accept Troi's nurturing a little more readily. It's gentler in ways than what she's established with the commander.
Jedi Kes Solo-Thanks for your follow and review! Glad you are liking it so far! :-)
Jora laid on the edge of a flat rock, her fingers reaching down to touch the river as it swirled past. It was a hot day, hotter than any she could remember. But the young girl didn't mind, for she had the river and the jungle and the afternoon all to herself.
"My clothes are just about dry. What do you say to another swim?" She rolled from her stomach to her back and felt for the big dog at her side. "Silver?" Her hand felt empty space instead. Jora sat up, scanning the riverbanks with a frown. It was unlike him, to wander very far.
A flock of birds suddenly crowded the sky, filling the air with a great screeching and squawking. From where they had taken flight, Jora could hear a series of short, urgent barks. She climbed down from the rock and grabbed her shoes. "I'm coming, Silver!" she shouted.
Hopping along, she shoved one foot and then the other into her shoes. Low hanging branches snatched at her skirt as she dashed through the jungle. Silver's barking continued to ring out from ahead, guiding her straight towards the distressed dog.
At last his dappled fur came into view. Jora found him circling the base of a zossarine bush, whining frantically between barks. "I'm here, boy!" she called. "What is it?" He yipped several times, digging at the purple colored roots. Then he got onto his belly, trying to wriggle beneath the tangle of twisted branches.
"Silver, no!" Jora cried, hauling him away by his collar. "Don't you see those thorns?" An image flashed through her mind, an unpleasant memory from when she was younger. Silver had spooked a small vermin crossing the trail in front of them. It bolted straight into a zossarine bush. Though Jora tried to cut away at the thorns and help it escape, it had already been speared to death by the time she reached it. She shuddered, trying to cast the memory out. "Come on. If you've chased something into there, then it's probably dead by now."
"I'm not dead."
The unexpected declaration sent her heart leaping into her throat. "Wh-what did you say?"
"I'm not dead," the voice of a boy repeated. "But I am stuck."
Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, leaving a bright yellow square on the floor. Jora plunged her hands beneath the surface of the warm, soapy water. She felt for the edges of a plate and began to scrub it clean. Silver yawned from his place beneath a round table. Then, with a luxurious stretch, he rose and trotted over to the door.
"Need to go outside?" Jora asked. She reached for a towel, but before she could dry her hands off, the door opened. Carmen stumbled in, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the soft kitchen light.
"Jora?" she rasped.
"Good morning!" Jora hailed cheerfully. "Feeling better? Your mom said you had a bout of heat fever."
"Heat fever?"
"It happens to visitors all the time. People aren't used to how hot it gets in Almer. Here, you should sit down." She pulled a stool out from beneath the counter. It had been painted red a long time ago, but the wood showed through in well-worn spots.
Carmen lowered herself onto it slowly. Silver came to her side, resting his head in her lap. "Where uh, where are my parents?" she asked. Though she pretended not to notice the dog, her fingers went under his chin and began to scratch. A rumble of appreciation reverberated from the dog's throat.
"Your dad's helping my dad again," Jora answered. "He was really interested in what Elion said last night. Wanted to go into town later, talk with some of the folks who saw the space rock when it fell. Your mom is around here somewhere, I think."
"Did you see it?"
"What?"
"The space rock?"
"No." Jora paused in front of a cupboard. "It was nighttime, so we were all sleeping."
"But you don't really think it was a space rock. Do you?"
The girl's mind turned to the zossarine bush on that fateful day. So ensnared was the boy, that Jora was unable to glimpse his face until she had already cut him free…
"Wh-why do you look like that?" she stammered, backing away from the boy she had just rescued with slow, cautious steps.
"Have you never seen my kind before?" he asked.
"No! I didn't-I didn't even know there was another kind!"
"You mean your people...you've never left this planet?" His facial features wrenched together, bewildered at the notion.
Jora shook her head. She watched as Silver sniffed at the boy's wounds, which bled green stains into his clothes. "You're hurt," she noted.
He glanced down at the jagged scores on his arm. "It's nothing. But one of the others...he fell ill after touching a strange plant. It was dark and oily looking-"
"Blackweed! Oh no." Jora grimaced. "He needs to go to the infirmary right away. I'll get my mother-"
"No!" He grabbed her arm before she could dash away. The strength of his grip surprised her, and she froze, mouth still open. Silver growled a curt warning. "Sorry," he said, letting go with a sheepish, apologetic smile. "It's just...please, you must never tell anyone about me."
"Why not?" she asked, swallowing a lump of apprehension in her throat.
"There are people looking for me. People who would kill me if they knew who I was."
Jora studied the boy and his strange face. Alien though it was, she found an earnestness there that felt much more familiar. Her curiosity swelled, overtaking her fear. "Is it because you did something wrong?" she asked.
A mysterious sorrow seeped into his eyes. "No," he answered. "It is because we did something right."
"Jora?"
The girl's hand was still on the cupboard as she stood, steeped in the memories of her strange friend and the day they met. "I'm sorry," she replied hastily. "Did you ask me something?"
"I said you don't believe it was just a space rock, do you?" Carmen repeated.
"Well...like my dad said, they've been known to fall this time of year." Jora opened the cupboard, hiding from the fact that she didn't exactly answer the question. She reached for a plate of bread. "Anyways, are you hungry? I saved you some breakfast."
When she closed the cupboard again, she found Carmen studying her intently. "And...I made you some juice, too. It should help with your fever. I think maybe you didn't drink enough yesterday-it's easy to get dehydrated out here."
For a few moments, Carmen remained silent and aloof. Then, to Jora's relief, a small smile lighted on the corner of her lips.
"What is it?" Jora asked.
The small smile spread into something sincere. "These last couple of days, I've been so...fussed over. I'm not used to it, that's all." She picked up a piece of bread from the plate and began to butter it.
A sudden wail startled Carmen into dropping the bread. Little Wren had woken from his nap in the neighboring room. Jora sighed, grateful for the change of subject. "Speaking of fussing…" she said. "Would you mind getting Wrennie? I have to finish these dishes."
Carmen's eyes widened. "Me?"
"Yeah, just bring him in here. He hates being alone." As Carmen left, Jora returned to the dishes in the sink. The baby continued to cry and cry. Eventually, his cries grew louder and nearer.
When Carmen reappeared, she was holding Wren out in front of her. "Why won't he stop?" she asked, nearly as distraught as the baby.
Jora bit down on her cheek to keep herself from laughing. "You have to hold him close," she said.
"How close?"
"Up against you."
Clumsily, Carmen hugged the baby to her chest. But Wren wouldn't have it. He shoved a little fist into his mouth repeatedly as pearl-like tears continued to stream down his cheeks. "What is he doing? Why is he doing that?"
"It means he's hungry," Jora explained. "Here, sit down again and I'll make him a bottle." She wiped her hands off just enough to fill a bottle of milk. But as she passed it off to the young woman, Carmen merely stared at it helplessly.
"It's alright. Cradle him with one arm-yeah like that! And make sure to tilt the bottle back or he'll swallow a bunch of air and get an upset stomach."
Pursing her lips with concentration, Carmen followed her instructions. Gradually, the baby quieted down. A loud slurping sound followed every gulp of milk. One of his hands reached up, grasping Carmen's fingers as she held the bottle in place. Her brows drew together at the tender, trusting touch. "He's...he's…" She fumbled for the right word.
"Kind of sweet, I know." Jora pushed aside a lock of reddish-gold hair and planted a kiss on the baby's forehead. "Hard to believe the rest of my brothers were ever this innocent!"
She giggled at her own joke. But Carmen didn't seem to hear her, for she was gazing down at the baby in rapt silence. Something soft and strange had come over her.
"Hey um, Carmen?" Jora prompted. "Can I ask you something?"
"Like what?" she responded without looking away.
"How come your parents only had you? I mean, didn't they ever want more children?"
Carmen's face grew somber. Her countenance clouded over in a way that made Jora take pity. "I...never thought about that before," she said, her voice little more than a grating whisper.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Jora folded her arms and looked down at her feet. Several moments of awkward silence ensued.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Carmen inquired, banishing the silence as well as the awkwardness. When Jora lifted her gaze, she found the young woman studying her again. But there was something gentle behind her eyes this time. "What is it like, having brothers?"
A grin made its way across Jora's face. "They're filthy, they're rude, they boast about the stupidest stuff, they keep bugs in their pockets, they break all the family heirlooms, and-well, I'm pretty fond of them."
Carmen burst out laughing, inadvertently jolting the baby awake. He had just begun to doze off when the bottle slipped from his mouth in surprise. Flailing his arms, Wren belted out a cry of complaint.
"Want me to take him?" someone asked from the threshold. Both girls looked up to find Deanna in their midst.
"Oh! Um, I guess so." Carmen lifted the baby towards her mother, who accepted him gladly. She tucked him into the crook of her elbow as though she had done it a million times before.
"There, there," she crooned, rocking him back and forth.
"Here's his bottle," Carmen offered. "But mind his head. And you have to tilt the bottle back so he doesn't swallow a bunch of air. That'll give him an upset stomach, you know." She hovered protectively over the infant.
Lorana brushed past them, her cheeks flushed and pink from the heat of the day. "I think your mama knows what she's doing," she chuckled, plopping herself onto the stool that Carmen had just been occupying. It groaned a complaint. "In fact, look at that shine in her eyes. She's caught the fever."
"Fever?" Carmen searched her mother's face. "You're feeling ill, too?"
A hearty laugh came from Lorana. "The baby fever, that is," she said. But it didn't seem to clear things up for the young woman.
"You mean the baby's ill?"
Lorana wheezed with laughter all over again. She slapped at her thigh and the stool beneath her groaned a second time. "It's alright, dear," she assured. "You'll understand one day, once you've settled down!" Even Jora found herself laughing at her friend's expense. It was an amusing thought, to picture Carmen as a docile housewife.
A succession of hurried and desperate knocks wiped the grin from Lorana's face. Someone rapped loudly against the front door. She pushed off the stool with a grunt of effort. "Coming, coming!" she called. Jora followed, craning her neck to peer around her mother's skirt.
It was Elion. Yet his affable affect was nowhere to be found. Instead, his eyes were dark and sunken as though he hadn't slept all night. Leaves clung to his mud-splattered clothes. He stared past Lorana and his desperate gaze locked onto Jora in a way that uneased the young girl. "Jora…" he said, panting for breath. "I need Jora. Something has happened."