"The Forgotten - Part 1"

Lorien (Steven Jonas)
Former Fabricator

Saren Jo'rek (Michael McDowell)
Pit Fighter

*** The Pit, Cage Number 1105-C ***

It was cold. So intense cold. The darkness he could adjust to, but the cold? No. Never. He was getting too old for this. Saren thought for a moment and scratched his neck. No, he wasn't getting to old. They just treated him like an animal, putting him in a cage with nothing to sleep on, giving him bad food, and held him in an location that even a stupid Drabhik would avoid.

He got up to his feet, be it with some difficulty. With this cold his right leg started to act up. A leftover from a fight 5 months ago. The sword of his opponent had cut into his upper thigh and severed some muscles back them. The Doctors (if you could call them Doctors) patched him up, meaning they closed the wound in a rather amateur way. No doubt it will leave an ugly scar. But they didn't care about that.

After a few rounds of pacing around the cage the numb feeling in his leg faded away. Walking around did help to fight off the cold too but only so much. His mind wandered of and lead him to the ever lingering question who had betrayed him. Who was responsible for getting him into the hellhole?

His body slammed into the bars of the cage with a thud forcing the air from his lungs. A groan escaped his lips as he felt the hard metal press against his injured chest. Sliding down the bars he crumpled into a pile. The guard snickered as he closed the cell door and locked it. For several minutes Lorien just lay there, trying to gather his wits, letting the pain, of the fight he had just been in and the roughshod repair work to his body, lessen to an extent where he could move to a more comfortable position. Though in such a small cell, there wasn't much in the way of comfort.

Finally he managed, through whimpers of pain, to move to a sitting position. With his eyes closed and his mind going over the fight, he didn't hear his fellow pit fighter calling out to him.

All what Saren did was turn around when the person he shared the cage with was returned by the Guard. He learned long ago that if he tried anything against a Guard he would be punished severely. Instead he only gave him an ice-cold stare. Then his eyes turned away and came to rest on the by now half broken body of Lorien.

Lorien looked up at Saren. "Hey."

Saren acknowledged the greeting with a simple nod. "Once more you beat the odds. I'm most pleased you did my friend."

"I'm not" Lorien said coldly as a trickle of blood spilled from his mouth. "I wish I was dead."

"I'd say that's a normal reaction in this situation, but nevertheless not something you should think about. You know as well as I do that to survive out here you need to stay focused, and thinking about dead won't help in the slightest." Saren sat down next to Lorien. He did understand what Lorien was going through now. He'd been there more than once. "You do want to survive, right? If it was only to be able to pay back those that brought you here."

Lorien sighed. There wasn't much he could do. He just had to suck it up and wait for an opportunity to escape.

"Did you get to fight today?" Lorien asked.

"No, I didn't. But if there's any truth to the rumors I hear then they have planned something for tonight. That and I keep hearing my name. You don't need to be a genius to know what that can mean."

"Good luck." Lorien wanted to get out, to get Saren and the others out, but as it stood, he didn't have the strength to do anything. It had all been used up during his fight. "While they were 'tending' to my wounds, I overheard two of the guards outside talking about some changes they were going to bring in. Something about a new challenge. Couldn't make out what. So be careful."

"Hmm, making it more 'spectacular' no doubt." Saren snorted. "Why else would they change it? But thanks for letting me know. I'll be sure to watch out as soon as I step inside that ring again."

Lorien nodded slightly. It was odd, he had known Saren since almost the day he had been thrown into the Pit, yet he hardly knew anything about him. And not from a lack of trying. They had little else to do stuck in the cage for so many hours of each day. He just... maybe he just didn't really listen well enough. Heck, it was one of the things that T'Lara had mentioned repeatedly those few years before; that he didn't listen and pay attention to her enough.

The elements knew how much he wanted out of here. Yet as he sat there, his breathing ragged from the ill treated wounds, Lorien knew he had to wait a little longer. He still needed some more evidence before any action would be taken. So he had to stay. But boy did he want out of the Pit.

"How bad are your wounds? Let me have a look at it." Saren said after a few seconds of silence. "I still have some bandage somewhere. Not the best quality anymore, but it's better than nothing."

"Thanks." Lorien lifted his shirt to show Saren the wound he had received in his recent battle.

Saren carefully inspected the injury, which was easier said than done in the darkness. He traced the outer rim of the cut with his fingers. He sighed and shook his head. "What did I tell you about neglecting your right side? Now see what it got you. Do you always have to learn it the hard way?"

Lorien winched. Though he wasn't sure if it was from the attention to the wound or yet another 'lesson' from Saren. "I know... I know... But I'm not a fighter. I used to be a fabricator in the lower levels making stuff for those that paid my boss enough."

"Well, I hate to say it, but those skills won't help you a lot here. You better follow that principle I told you about. You still remember it, do you?" Saren got up and retrieved the old bandage that was lying with his other stuff in the opposite corner of the cage. It should be enough to cover Lorien's wound.

"Yeah, I remember the credo down here. 'In the Pit you're a fighter first and nothing else.' It's just hard trying to survive."

"True. All the more reason to start thinking like a Pit fighter. It's the only way to stay alive." At this point Saren lowered his voice. It was best that no one else would hear what he was about to say. "Maybe even long enough to find a way out of here."

Lorien wondered if Saren had something in mind, but deferred pressing on the issue. He didn't need the 'guards' finding anything out. At least until he had done what he needed to. Lorien smiled weakly, feigning being tired. "I could do with a nice long rest."

"Hmm, yes, of course. Try to get some sleep after I've taken care of your wound." Saren started to apply the bandage in a way he thought was best. A Doctor would probable frown upon seeing his method, but then again he had little knowledge when it came to treating wounded people.

Lorien nodded in response. "I'll see if I can. Not promising anything though."

It was while Lorien talked that the relative silence in the immediate area of their cage was broken as two Guards came their way. Saren already made a rough calculation of the chance of them passing by, a meager 22 percent. He clenched his teeth. "I hate this part."

"Crap," Lorien said as he saw the guard looking at him. "Won't they give a guy a break????"

"Apparently not." Saren got up and moved towards the door of the cage. "But not all is lost yet. I can try to persuade them to leave you here."

"Thanks. I'm not sure I can even stand, let alone fight."

TBC...

"That Old Gut Feeling"

By Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict "Max" Maxwell,
NCOIC Emergency Medical Response Team (Current Status: Prisoner #8813-E419M25)
USS Galaxy

DS5, The Brig

Max was really starting to wonder if his ADHD had survived into adulthood with him, as after twenty or so hands of Fizzbin, he finally got tired of playing and laid down on his cot. The real problem wasn't the boredom that had already set in, much to the chagrin of Coralez who wanted to regain his honor by winning a few more hands. The issue was the funny feeling Max had in his gut.

He began running down the possibilities, chiefly the fact that he was still a prisoner and the possibility of his fate being revealed soon. Another issue was in regards to his father. He had left a while back to the Gamma Quadrant on a diplomatic mission. But Max didn't want to think about it further. He already lost one family member, and didn't want to even consider the possibility of losing another.

No, this was something else, he reasoned. Max looked across at his cellmate, Coralez. The mercenary was sound asleep, snoring like a chainsaw in overload. No, despite the sound of an impending hull breach, it didn't involve Coralez. The other occupied cells gave Max any better or worse of a feeling.

Rolling onto his side to face the wall, Max closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep in spite of the constant roar of the man across the cell who needed some serious oral-nasal surgery...maybe even a C-PAP device. He tried to drift off, but that feeling started to get worse. He sat bolt upright, but no one was there..except the snore-o-matic on the other side. Even the guard seemed to be fighting to stay awake at his semi-lunar shaped console. his head bobbed every so often and he went to the replicator at least twice for strong coffee and caffeinated beverages.

Whatever it is, it's not good and a lot of people are going to get hurt, a voice said in his mind. His heart skipped a few beats, but felt no link, no tug towards another consciousness, nada. He shook his head and stood up to pace for a while. This action got the attention of the guard who appreciated the sudden departure from the monotonous routine. The guard sat at attention, ever alert for Max to try something. Oh, who am I kidding, the guard thought. This guy is behind a security force field, and probably has insomnia. Whatever could he possibly do?

Meanwhile, back in the cell, Max stopped pacing and returned to his cot. The guard lost interest and returned to his battle with the ever present human body's circadian clock.Max finally closed his eyes and drifted off, the feeling of dread not going away, but losing out to his own fatigue.

"The Color Of Life, The Color Of Death"

(Takes Place Immediately After 'Dragon of Fire')

Chulak Vardek, Prime Engineer (Victor Krieghoff)
Sakonna Vardek (Tarin Iniara)

****

Talvalen
55 Years into Voyage
Immediately Post Agro-Deck Fire

She didn't know what to do.

News of the fire had spread almost as quickly as the fire itself. Once she'd heard, Sakonna had tried to go to the lower decks, to help out in whatever way she could. She'd argued with the centurions there, told them she had medical training, that she could help with the wounded. But one after one they had denied her access to the triage areas, telling her to return to her home and keep calm. She'd screamed at them, begging them to allow her to help, until rather abruptly she'd run into Lieutenant Sepek.

The daughter of Talvath Raal is a prime target for a kidnapper or assassin, Sepek had told her in calm tones that seemed rather at odds with the current chaos. And when he'd begged her to return home, she had listened and obeyed.

It hadn't occurred to her until now to wonder just how Sepek had known who she really was. In all their meetings over the years she had never given him a name, not even a false one. Had her disguise been that transparent?

Not that such things mattered now. Not when her home was burning and she was powerless to stop it.

Sakonna sighed and leaned forward in the chair, staring at the floor between her feet. She was angry, impatient, and worried sick. For days the crews had been struggling to extinguish the fire, her husband among them. No, not among them; leading them. Somewhere, deep beneath her feet, her beloved husband was saving them all.

It filled her with as much worry as it did pride. Chulak had never been one to send in subordinates while he watched at a safe distance; no, he always preferred to lead by example. No doubt her husband was in the middle of it all right now, risking his life to save Talvalen and the thousands of travelers who called it home.

She closed her eyes, barely noticing the soft sound of two fat tears impacting on the plush carpet, or the sounds of several others that followed. All she cared about now was seeing her husband again, alive and unharmed. Drawing in a ragged breath, she began to murmur quiet prayers to the Elements for his safe return.

****

He was almost there.

The doors to the Vardek compound were just ahead, and, on the other side of them, his doors. Home.

The fire was out.

Talvalen wasn't burning any more.

He'd done his job. He'd saved the ship, kept her alive. He'd not wanted to open her to space like that, make her bleed precious air into the hungry vacuum outside. Not wanted to kill what little life remained on the agro-deck untouched by the flames. But he'd had to do it, it was necessary to save Talvalen. To save the people aboard the ship. To save... Sakonna. His father. His family. The ship.

He was almost there, now. The Vardek doors were closing behind him. He was almost home.

He was so tired. He hadn't slept in days, hadn't eaten in as long. He'd inhaled too much smoke, some of it toxic with chemicals, and thought that he might have damaged a lung from the way it hurt when he breathed.

But he was almost home, at the doors to his apartments.

The shorting circuitry that he'd pulled his father away from as they vented the fire to space had burned him. That was all right. He'd hurt Talvalen, hurt it badly, and the ship had the right to hurt him back. But not his father, no. His father hadn't hurt the ship - that had been Chulak's plan. He couldn't let the ship's punishment fall where it wasn't deserved.

He was sure that the burns hurt - or would have hurt anyone else - but he found, for the first time, that the pain he'd suffered with for years, the persistent ache in his head that had never gone away, had been good for something after all: it meant that he could ignore lesser pains. The one in his head was still gone, as it had been since the alarms went off two days before, but it had given him the strength to ignore the effects of the electrical burn.

His door was closed now. He was home.

****

The tell-tale clack of the compound's outer doors brought Sakonna out of her thoughts, and her body tensed with anticipation as she realized what the sound meant. He was home.

She barely had time to straighten herself up before the inner doors opened to reveal Chulak. He was filthy, burned and bleeding, and looked like he hadn't bathed or eaten in days. A gasp caught in her throat and she pushed it back down, at the same time resisting the urge to fawn all over him, telling him how much she loved him and missed him and never wanted to be apart again. It was not her reckless emotions that he needed, she reminded herself. He was hurt; right now he needed her strength and her caring more than anything.

So instead of rushing to his side in a blubbering mess she rushed to his side with as much calm as she could muster, carefully wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him silently to their bedroom. Once he had made it into a sitting position she dashed off, returning a moment later with a medical kit, a basin of water, and some small towels.

Her hands were only barely shaking as she began to undress him, taking care not to aggravate his injuries. When his torso was bare she grabbed a towel and dipped it in the water, cleaning away some of the dirt and grime from the worst of the wounds. "Some of these burns are bad," she said at last; now that some of the dirt was gone she could see just how much abuse he had endured over the past few days. "I need to treat them before they become infected."

"It was the console we used," he explained tiredly, "the one Father and I wired to open and close the pressure doors in the correct pattern to instantly open a pathway to space and extinguish the fire." He stopped for a minute and coughed. Yes, there was definitely something wrong with his lung. "It started to short out, I saw the first spark and pushed him away, and..." He shrugged, knowing that it would hurt him and not caring. This was still a lesser pain, a simple one. He could stand this forever without blinking.

Sakonna nodded, her eyes following the path of the wounds. Electrical burns, she realized, but she didn't quite know why she knew that. That wasn't important now though, and she forced herself to focus on the task at hand instead of letting her mind wander as it was wont to do. Pulling open the med kit she quickly found the packages she needed, then set to work cleaning and dressing the burns.

The next several minutes passed in silence, interrupted every so often by a cough or ragged breath from Chulak. If she listened closely enough, Sakonna thought she could hear something wrong with him internally. From what she could tell, the coughing was a symptom of something more than just simple lung irritation, and that worried her. "I should send for the doctor," she said, finishing up the last of the bandages. "Your lungs...you may have inhaled something toxic..."

Chulak nodded slightly, the barely perceptible movement still catching her attention. She looked up at him, for the first time actually noticing him and not just his wounds. His hair was a mess, and what looked like brown grease was smudged in an erratic pattern below his eye. Setting aside the remaining bandages she cupped his cheek with her hand, gently wiping away the grease. He looked older somehow; the lines in his face were deeper and more defined, and the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes seemed to have grown exponentially since she had last seen him. His eyes, normally full of color and vitality, were now dull and lifeless. That was what worried her the most.

Was he in that much pain from his wounds? If he was, she would definitely need to send for the doctor, and soon. She made to move but stopped, suddenly aware of the feel of Chulak's hand on her own...and of how stupid she had been.

Was it a physical pain that he held within him? Or was it something else, something that couldn't be healed by doctors, something that couldn't even be healed? Her husband's work was his life...no, that wasn't quite right. Talvalen was his life; it was the thing that mattered most to him in this world. Someone had attacked it, and it had burned. Sakonna could only imagine what he must have felt trying to stop that fire, to save the ship, to save the thousands of people that called it home. And he had almost died doing it.

But the ship had survived, and so had he. They all had. Sakonna couldn't imagine what he had been through these past few days, but she could certainly understand the sacrifice, and the emotions that went along with it. She also knew that his dedication would go unnoticed by many of Talvalen's passengers. Most of the civilians would never know who had ultimately stopped the fire; they would never know the name of the man who had saved their lives. After he had healed Chulak would return to work, perhaps receiving a commendation from her father the Captain or Lord Valen himself, but then life would continue as it always had. Talvalen would heal, and the fire that nearly destroyed it would be nothing more than another half-forgotten event in the history books. Perhaps, she realized, that was why he was truly in pain.

She leaned towards him then, the acrid smell of soot and smoke tickling her nose. "Thank you," she murmured, brushing her lips softly against his. There was nothing she knew of that could take away his pain; such knowledge would have been more valuable than life itself. She only hoped that her actions would provide some level of comfort to her husband.

Chulak frowned, the kiss and its accompanying words drawing his thoughts and perceptions back to focus on where he was and what was happening there. Sakonna was... thanking him? For what? For failing to stop the fire sooner? For almost getting his father killed? For not being able to anticipate the saboteurs and their actions? For destroying the agro-deck, poisoning the soil with chemicals and tainting what of the ship's atmosphere he hadn't vented out to space with smoke and the gods knew what else? For...

Without warning, the pain was back.

Distracted as he was, this time - for the first time - Chulak's control failed and the pain that he normally kept locked away within him erupted out into his mind like the dragon of fire he'd vented to space only hours before. He tried to breathe but couldn't, tried to speak but only produced a sound that had more in common with failing hydraulics than speech. The pain seared into his mind, like molten metal poured into his nervous system, paralyzing him. All he could do was stare at his wife, his vision distorted somehow, as if a filter or lens were interfering with his vision, and clutch the hand that held his with all his strength.

That strength startled Sakonna, her husband's sudden change in demeanor causing her to pull away slightly. The difficulty breathing and speaking, the blank stare... Sakonna's whole body tensed as her overactive imagination immediately called up the worst possible explanations for the change.

"Chulak? What's wrong?" Fear colored her voice as she searched his eyes, desperately seeking an answer there. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him, trying to bring him back to the present. "Chulak, can you hear me?"

"I..." The single word escaped his lips between waves of agony, followed by a whimper that sounded more like a hurt animal's cry than anything he would have ever allowed himself to willingly make. He squeezed her hand again, his eyes reflecting the pain he was in, as he stared at Sakonna and tried to fight the pain, to force it back to where he'd locked it up for years. "It..." There was no air left in his lungs to form a word and he had to stop and struggle to take a breath, his damaged lung making that harder still than it was fighting just the pain. "It... hurts..."

Sakonna was torn. Part of her knew that she should call for help; that this was well beyond anything she could adequately handle. But another part of her felt that Chulak's hold on her was the only thing keeping him here, allowing him to try and fight the pain, and that if she let go now she would lose him forever. That was something she was unwilling to allow.

"You are stronger than the pain...you can beat it," she said, squeezing back with her own hand despite the growing pain she felt there. With her free hand she began to rummage in the medkit behind her, hoping that in her blind fumblings she would quickly find the stash of painkillers. They might not help much; she could only hope they would buy a precious few moments of relief while she called for the doctor. "Focus on me. Tell me where it hurts."

Where did it hurt? Couldn't she see? The pain filling his head must have swollen it to twice its normal size by now, perhaps more. There was so much of it now that it no longer whispered to him. Instead, it spoke to him as if it were truly a separate living thing inside him, using words that were... alien; foreign sounds that had the rhythm and flow of a real language but that sounded like no tongue spoken by a living soul. She had to hear them, had to know what was happening. She had to. "Head," he screamed, the word only a whisper when it left his lips. "Always... in... head."

Always? What did he mean by always? Had this happened before? She turned away, dumping out the contents of the medkit, frantically searching for the painkillers that should have been there. They could help him. They could give him relief. But where were they? A low curse escaped her lips as she suddenly realized they were gone. For an instant she wondered if Chulak had felt this pain before and had taken the painkillers to combat it. But then her own pain brought her back to the present, the crushing feeling in her hand reminding her that something-- no, someone far more important needed her attention.

"I have to call the doctor," she told him, hoping that he could still hear her and understand what she meant. There was no communications link in their bedroom; the closest one was in the sitting room, just on the other side of the wall. It wasn't far, but it suddenly felt farther away than the home they had left behind so many years ago. But with it lay hope: if she stayed with her husband she could pray that he would work through the pain...or she could leave him and call for a doctor who would heal him. The fear leapt forward as she realized what she had to do. In order to help Chulak she would have to leave him.

"Lie down, close your eyes..." Sakonna was vaguely aware of how much she was shaking as she eased him down into the soft pillows on their bed. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, relishing that brief physical contact despite the fact that his skin was now disturbingly cold and clammy. Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears, making it nearly impossible to think, impossible to speak. "Don't worry, I'll be back in a moment," she forced out in a strained whisper as she released her grip on his hand.

Leaving. She was leaving him. He was going to be alone in his mind with the pain and its obscene, alien voice. "No," he gasped out, his voice fainter still as the pain beat down on him like a rain of hammers on a slab of stone, each hideous, alien word chipping away at the core of his being like a physical blow, flaking it away until there was nothing left. Nothing but the pain. He didn't want that, didn't want to be alone, didn't want to be without... Sakonna.

Abruptly the pain stopped beating down on him in waves, and he managed a deep gasp, taking in as much air as his starving lungs could hold. "Stay," he said clearly and distinctly as he exhaled. "I need..."

The pain returned.

This time it was different, as if the pain had decided that beating him down, crushing him into submission, wasn't working fast enough, wasn't destroying him quickly enough to meet the rate set by some unknown timetable. This time it simply rushed down on him like a towering wave, tumbling him about and filling his lungs, flowing down his throat, drowning him in its smothering weight.

He struggled, but couldn't take a breath, couldn't finish the words he'd wanted to say to Sakonna, the ones he'd needed to say. They were swept away, buried under an ocean of pain that dragged him down into its deep, deep depths, where whispered, unnatural words reached up like the tentacles of some nightmare beast from the depths to wrap about him and hold him there.

All the strength drained from her limbs and Sakonna dropped weakly to her knees beside her husband. She hadn't wanted to leave him. Yet she had tried, and it had hurt him. She grasped his hand again so that he would know she was still there. "I'm not leaving, husband," she whispered, forcing the words out through the sudden tightness in her throat. "I'm here."

He was dying, he realized abruptly. After all the years of fighting, all the years of mastering the pain... he was dying. No more days spent maintaining the ship that was his life. No more nights exchanging the same words over and over with his wife. No more diagrams and circuits, and power flow charts. No more tools. No more people trying to kill him, only to be stopped by a woman that he hardly knew. No more exercise periods with his father. No more chances to accept Sulaed's offer to teach him the ahn-woon. No more ship, no more wife, no more family, no more... anything.

And who would have thought, he wondered, as the pain dragged him down further and the world started to grow dim, and a colored haze drifted over it, that death had a color? That the color that surrounded him, smothered him, drowned him, the color of death - was also the color of life?

Who would have thought that death was... green?

That was important, he decided. Important enough that he had to tell Sakonna, had to let her know. Had to tell her that death wasn't black or red, or any of the colors that people thought it was. That, instead, it was green: the color of blood, the color of plants and growing things... the color of life. She needed to know that. Everyone needed to know that. It was the most important thing in the universe, that knowing, and that knowledge gave him the strength to push away from the tentacles of words that dragged him down, to swim back up against the ocean of green pain to the surface and tell her.

"Chulak?" Sakonna leaned over him, her unbound hair spilling over her shoulders and onto his chest. "Chulak, can you hear me?"

What was happening to him? She'd never seen anything like this. He was quiet now, yet he seemed to be struggling against something. Against what? Shock? Heart attack? Stroke? Aneurysm? Or was he...

Was he...

Was he dying?

The fear exploded in her then, the tightness in her chest eating its way through her uncertainty, consuming her entirely. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks and ended their short lives against the bandaged skin of her husband's broken body. "Chulak, come back to me," she sobbed between shallow, ragged breaths. "Don't...please, oh Elements please...I need you, Chulak...please..." She pawed at his shoulder, trying in vain to rouse him, to bring him back to her. "I can't live...without you..." She buried her face in his chest, sobbing once more. "I... I love you too much, Chulak..."

He'd been wrong.

Despite the pain, despite the desperate need to swim to the surface and tell Sakonna about death's color, he'd been wrong. There was something - there had always been something - more important than death, or death's color. More important, even, than Talvalen and his devotion to it. Something that he'd never even realized was a vital, critical part of him.

Sakonna loved him, and he loved her.

He struggled to the surface, fought his way up through the emerald sea, and burst through to the world one last time. Death wasn't important. Color wasn't important. Talvalen wasn't important. Nothing was important... nothing but this. Nothing but these few words.

"I..." he shouted out, not caring that his words came out as but a whisper, so long as they came out and she could hear them. Nothing mattered now, nothing but these words, and the look in her eyes as she heard them. "I... love..." He lost concentration as he took a breath, started to fall back under the waves of green, green pain, but held on long enough, just long enough to finish and focus on her eyes. "...love you... Sakonna."

Time seemed to stop for her then as their entire life together replayed in an instant. The day they'd met. The walk in his father's garden. Their first kiss. The first time she'd played for him. The first time he'd tried to explain his work to her. Their wedding day. Their wedding night. Endless memories, day after day after day, all reflected in the brilliant green of those eyes.

Her lips moved soundlessly as she finally realized what was happening. He was leaving. He was saying goodbye. Never again would they share a walk in the garden, or a pleasant meal, or even a simple cup of tea and a long, comfortable silence. Her life with Chulak would become nothing more than a memory, and there was nothing she could do to change that. Her voice squeaked, the malformed sound dying in her throat before it even had a chance to live. "I..."

She'd heard him.

That was enough.

He let go, and fell back, sinking into the green depths, where the word tentacles awaited him hungrily. It was time to rest. Time to sleep. Time to... die.

Sakonna threw her head back and screamed as she felt his body go limp, all the emotion she had held in over the years being expelled in a solid wall of anguish. Exhausted, she slumped forward, burying her face in her husband's chest, sobbing deeply as she held his lifeless body tightly against hers. "I..." The sound died again as she realized there was nothing more to say. He was gone.

Abruptly, without warning, Chulak took a deep, gasping breath and his eyes opened wide enough that it looked as if they were about to fall from their sockets. His back arched, his arms and legs shuddered as if a charge of electricity were passing through him, and he coughed once, as though trying to clear water from his lungs. Beside him, Sakonna fell backwards, gasping in shock.

His eyes looked right, left, and then focused on Sakonna, as if seeing her for the first time. "Was geschah?" he whispered, the guttural, alien sounds falling from his mouth in a rush. "Wo sind ich? Wer sind Sie?"

OOC: The flashback portion is set immediately after events of "The Passing" Part 1.

"The Passing"
Part 2

Talok, son of Tos, 95th Lord Valen
Tavin, son of Talok, 96th Lord Valen
T'Pera, Tavin's older sister

****
Talvalen
After the fire...
****

"Lord Valen?"

The voice, a smooth female contralto, barely registered in his periphery. It was a voice he had known all his life, and he had learned to ignore it long ago.

"Lord Valen?" There it was again. Perhaps if he ignored it for long enough, its owner would go away. That tactic seemed to work with most everyone he had dealt with since assuming leadership of the clan. Yes, he would ignore it. All he had to do was slow his breathing, close his eyes, and hope the intruder would assume he was meditating. And then, after a few uncertain moments of waiting, she would leave.

"Brother?" The voice was suddenly much closer. "Brother, are you listening?"

Valen's eyes shot open, scanning the room for his tormentor. "I am," he replied coolly, glaring over his shoulder when he realized she was directly behind him. "What is it now, T'Pera?"

"Captain Raal reports a planet on the edge of our sensor range. It appears to be completely covered in water, but is teeming with marine-based life," T'Pera replied, her voice just as cold as her brother's. She handed him a small data pad, barely resisting the urge to throw it in his face. In the years since her brother had assumed control of their clan, he had treated her as little more than a common servant. She had negotiated supply trades between the ships of their fleet, she had conducted important meetings with the captain and his staff, and she had even prepared Valen's meals when he had no time to return home to his wife and children. She had done everything he had asked of her without complaint, simply because he had asked it. As much as he infuriated her, she still loved him dearly.

Valen frowned as he scanned the sensor data. "And why have you brought this to me? This is no home for our people."

"We need provisions, brother. The fire destroyed many of our crops, and what is left will not be enough to sustain us to the next harvest."

"You think I do not know that, woman?" he snapped, spinning about to face T'Pera. His expression immediately softened as he looked into her eyes. T'Pera was often a cold and manipulative woman, but those deep brown eyes of hers always seemed to carry some hidden sadness. That was his one weakness; despite the fact that he and T'Pera were often at odds, she was still his sister, and Valen wished he could do something to ease whatever secret pain she kept inside her.

"I am sorry, sister," Valen continued when the silence between them had grown uncomfortable. His voice was now much quieter, perhaps even genuinely apologetic. "I am...torn."

The thin line of T'Pera's lips seemed to soften the slightest bit as she stepped forward and tentatively placed a hand on her younger brother's shoulder. She met his gaze silently, that single look offering him more support than a thousand carefully chosen words from his closest advisors. And for a moment he was no longer Lord Valen, leader of the clan Talvalen, and she was no longer Lady T'Pera, Valen's closest advisor. He was simply Tavin and she was simply T'Pera, and they were nothing more than two siblings alone in a world neither of them wished to inhabit.

"Did I ever tell you what his last words were?" he asked abruptly, looking out towards the stars once more. "Our father, I mean."

T'Pera shook her head slowly, following his gaze. Stars streaked by on the large observation screen, lighting the way to their new home. "No. Tell me."

****

Decades ago...

Tavin opened his eyes slowly, tentatively, as if momentarily unsure of how to use them. He looked down at his father, suddenly having the strangest sensation...as if he was somehow looking down at himself looking up at him.

That occasionally happened after a katra transfer, he remembered hearing somewhere. The thoughts of the received katra would mingle with the receiver's katra, creating an odd sense of double perception, or sometimes déjà vu. But it would pass, once the received katra had taken a moment to settle down, to acclimate to its new home so to speak. Or so he had been told.

Tavin breathed deeply and evenly, stilling his emotions in the way Surak had taught his followers, taking a moment to examine the katra within him. It was an interesting feeling, having an extra presence inside his head. Almost like a split personality...but the secondary personality was naturally weaker, unable to take control or assert itself in any way. It remained in Tavin's mind purely to be observed, to allow the wisdom and experience of his predecessor to be consulted whenever necessary.

It had been this way for ninety six generations of their family. The original Lord Valen had before his own death transferred his katra into his eldest son, so that the son might continue to rely on his father's teachings and wisdom as he continued to build the Talvalen clan. And ever since then fathers had passed their katras on to their sons, symbolically transferring control of the clan and creating an unbroken line of succession that had lasted for centuries. Tavin was merely the latest in that line.

"My son." The words startled Tavin out of his reverie, and for a moment he wasn't sure if they had come from his father's mouth or from inside his own head.

"Father?" he heard himself say. "Father, how do you feel?"

Talok laughed, the harsh sound quickly giving way to rough coughing. "I am dying. How do you think I feel?" The reply contained an equal amount of sarcasm and irritation, and Tavin was momentarily surprised at the amount of strength behind the words.

"It is time, son of Valen," the elderly man continued, placing his withered hand upon his son's. "The sands of our home have given us all we know, and we are forever bound to them. And through them, we of the clan Talvalen shall live forever."

Talok's voice took on a life of its own as the ancient and long-remembered words came to him. "I know you, Tavin of Kir. You are our leader, and our protector. And so I pass my life to you and with my dying breath name you Valen, ninety-sixth to carry the name, supreme leader of the Talvalen. As all things rise, so must they fall."

"As all things rise, so must they fall," Tavin repeated, the archaic language of the ritual phrases feeling strange on his tongue. "But the Talvalen shall live forever."

"The future of our clan now lies with you, my son. Protect it with every breath in your body. That is all I ask of you." And with that, the ninety-fifth Lord Valen was gone.

****

"Those words haunt me every day of my life." Valen paced the room as he talked, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. "'The future of our clan now lies with you, my son.' As if that would not put undue pressure on me." He paused to look back at her, then continued his slow, deliberate steps.

"Those are the words passed from father to son, on and on in an unbroken line of succession for nearly a hundred generations," T'Pera reminded him, her voice carefully neutral. Now was not the time for confrontation, not when they were finally speaking rationally for once.

"I know that. They are nothing more than the words of an ancient conqueror, a man who did not wish to see his legacy die with him. So he placed so much guilt on his son's shoulders that he had no choice but to continue his father's work, to continue in his father's name, to build this clan his own father named after himself!

"I told you I was torn. If we stop now to gather supplies, if we burn enough fuel to slow the ship and establish orbit around this planet, we may not have enough fuel to resume our journey. The planet is watery; it cannot sustain us as a people if we are unable to leave it. It can only offer us a temporary solution to the current crisis. But if we continue on, we risk the starvation deaths of a large percentage of our population. How will we continue the legacy of our clan if there is nothing left of it?"

Valen sighed and stopped in his tracks once more, his gaze fixed firmly on his feet. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. "As all things rise, so must they fall. All that lives must eventually die...perhaps even the Talvalen. Perhaps it is simply our time to fade away, to pass away into the night."

T'Pera was silent for a long moment, considering her words carefully before she asked, "What will you do?"

"The logical thing," he replied. "We need supplies. Send word to Talvath. He will know how best to proceed."

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