GRAVITAS

Title: Gravitas, 17/26
Author: Jaye (Copyright December 2002)
Codes: VOY/TNG/DS9 Many Pairings NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property 
of Paramount. Gladiator belongs to Dreamworks SKG and Universal. No infringement 
is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for adult themes, violence and sex. If 
you aren't interested (or aren't old enough), don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please keep the text 
(especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: Treachery raises the stakes and changes lives when the leader of the 
Terran Empire seeks to restore the Federation.

Note: Very AU, as chapters 1-14 were basically the film "Gladiator" set in a 
Star Trek universe. Now it's my own invention. No Maquis, no Delta Quadrant, 
etc. This is my response to Polly's Cha!Club challenge about movies. Sisko is 
older here than in canon.

***************

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tom stared around the courtyard of the Bajoran temple. The low, hollow notes of 
the garden's wooden wind chimes blended with the sounds of running water to 
create an oasis of peace and quiet in the middle of a crowded city. He resisted 
the urge to pace, instead settling himself on a flat stone to watch water lilies 
drift in a large oval pool.

He couldn't figure out why Odo had dumped him here, but he had little choice but 
to sit and wait. The slim chance that this contact would provide a solid lead to 
help Chakotay was certainly worth the inconvenience of cooling his heels for an 
hour.

"You seem troubled, young one."

The voice made Tom whirl, startled. A short, middle-aged Bajoran woman was 
looking at him with concern in her dark eyes. He cleared his throat and replied, 
"Yes, I suppose I am."

The lady sat beside him, tilting her head as she observed him. After a moment 
she said, "The golden prince of the Empire is a hero of the Federation." She 
gave a slight nod at his startled glance, then asked, "What brings you to Bajor, 
Thomas Eugene Paris?"

Tom shifted uncomfortably, but his gut was telling him to trust this stranger. 
Her robes and aura of serenity proclaimed she was a member of the temple. 
"Desperation," he replied honestly. "I need information to help...someone very 
important to me."

The Bajoran's eyes warmed as she smiled. "How discreet of you. But you need to 
be a little more specific---you might try asking for 'information on Cardassian 
poisons and the Obsidian Order'."

The sense of space in his mouth told Tom his jaw was gaping. He hastily closed 
it, then asked, "Are you Odo's contact?"

"Yes. I'm Kai Opaka." She shrugged. "Mr. Odo is an old friend. He was so good to 
help us with...logistics and supply...during the Dominion occupation. But not as 
helpful, of course, as Admiral Chakotay."

"What?!" Tom leapt to his feet. "Odo wasn't supposed to mention---"

"He didn't." Opaka also stood; she leaned her head back to meet Tom's eyes. "The 
Prophets remember how the Admiral kept his promise to them, and his kindness to 
Bajor."

"I'm not sure I understand." Tom sat down again, putting him on a level with the 
short, plump woman.

"Chakotay freed Bajor from the Dominion, but he didn't put the planet under 
Imperial protection---or control." She gestured to the skies above. "Instead, he 
provided us with our own sensor net and ships, as well as an orbital defense 
station. To guarantee Bajoran independence." Her eyes dimmed with sadness. 
"Unfortunately, he didn't know it was his own home planet that would come under 
attack."

"No. If he had...." Tom trailed off; it was useless to speculate now on what 
might have been.

"But he didn't." Opaka too seemed ready to set aside the topic. "In any case, 
Bajor's debt to Chakotay is great indeed. Rest assured, young Paris, whether or 
not my people join the Federation, we will do all we can to help him. And to 
keep his return a secret." She grimaced. "That is, *some* of us will. I suggest 
you choose your confidants carefully. There are those who would use this 
situation to their advantage."

"Yeah, I've already met a guy who fits that bill." Tom's features twisted in 
distaste a moment as he remembered Minister Jaro. Then hope smoothed out his 
expression as he stood. "Do you really think you can help us?" He grasped her 
hands in an unconscious gesture of entreaty.

"Perhaps." Opaka squeezed the fingers wrapped around hers, then drew away. "The 
choice will be made by others, and they may demand a high price for their aid. 
But I shall ask. My associate, Vedek Bariel, will contact you when there is 
news."

"Thank you." Tom's head lifted with his spirits. He felt a renewed, if 
unjustifiable, sense of hope.

The Bajoran gave a small bow and drifted to the garden door. Just at the 
threshold she turned back. "I wish you luck, young Paris." A glint of amusement 
sparkled in her eyes. "And I can tell you this much: you *will* need it, along 
with the patience of a Vedek."

"Why do you say that?" Tom's forehead crinkled in confusion.

"Let's just say if I know the inhabitants of Dorvan, you'll be facing quite a 
welcoming committee." Then the humor faded into something else. "Thomas, you 
have taken your first steps in what could be an arduous journey. Never lose 
touch with your own heart; let love sustain you in the hard times ahead. And 
remember that the emotion can take many forms." A whisper of cloth, the creak of 
the gate and she was gone.

************************************************************
************************************************************

Kai Opaka was right. There *was* a committee, and they were *not* welcoming.

Tom's group had hung around DS9 for another day or two, picking up medical 
supplies for the EMH and waiting for news. What they ended up with was a 
boatload of frustration.

Jaro Essa kept sending messages not-so-subtly suggesting that Tom reveal *why* 
he wanted the information he'd requested. Or to at least meet with Jaro once 
more. Coincidentally, the optimal places and times for a conference in the 
Minister's busy schedule were perfect opportunities for the politician to be 
seen with Tom.

It hurt to give up this source of a possible cure, but Tom knew he couldn't 
become a pawn in Bajor's power games. He refused all of Jaro's requests. 
Eventually they stopped coming. Tom knew he'd made an enemy.

He hadn't heard from Vedek Bariel, or even Kai Opaka saying she'd failed. Odo 
had talked with Tom twice, offering a gruff encouragement but no new leads. 
Oddly enough, he'd also warned Tom to watch his step when he reached Dorvan.

Now Tom knew why.

The first hint of trouble had been with Sisko's people. They'd arrived at the 
Dorvan spaceport ready to assess the damage to the Trebus region and begin 
setting up a temporary infrastructure. But before they could even debark from 
their vessel they were contacted by some kind of planetary council. And 
brusquely informed that they were free to trade, tour, meditate, visit, etc., on 
Dorvan---but they were *not* to approach Trebus under any circumstances.

Under Sisko's orders the team stayed put, killing time until their boss could 
arrive to straighten things out.

Kassidy's freighter had only been docked a minute or two before they received 
their own "off limits" orders. Shock had quickly dissolved into anger as their 
protests were ignored. At one point B'Elanna had treated everyone to a lesson in 
Klingon curses before Harry had stepped up and swept her into a hug.

For one tense moment everyone held their breath, waiting for the explosion that 
usually occurred when B'Elanna was thwarted. Instead, the ex-gladiator had given 
a long, sad sigh and clasped him in return. "How can they do this to Chakotay? 
Isn't this his home?" The question held the forlorn echo of the long-ago girl 
who'd never felt welcomed on her own planet.

It was Sisko who'd answered, his deep voice surprisingly soft. "Maybe they don't 
fully understand yet that he's here and needs their help." He turned to Tom. "It 
looks like it's time to come clean. Perhaps you should explain in more detail 
exactly what cargo we're carrying. And what plans we have for it."

Fifteen minutes later they'd been ordered to release Chakotay and get off the 
planet.

Tom finally lost his patience and sent a blistering reply explaining that *he* 
was Chakotay's guardian and that the only way anyone was getting near the man 
was over Tom's dead body.

People had started showing up soon after, silently surrounding Kassidy's 
freighter.

All the newcomers had done was watch and wait, until a small group of men and 
women opened a channel to the freighter and demanded to speak with the "upstart 
Imperial pup laying claim to their kinsman".

Kassidy lowered the ramp. Tom had limited his party to Sisko, Kassidy, Harry, 
B'Elanna and Greg. Sensing his allies at his back gave him the strength to lift 
his head high as he stepped on Dorvan soil for the first time.

"I'm Tom Paris, caretaker of Chakotay," he announced, his voice clear and 
carrying. Then he tensed, waiting.

"I am Anthwara, leader of the Dorvan Council of Elders." A white-haired man 
stepped forth, dignity in every line of his weathered face and the way he 
carried himself. "And I ask you by whose authority you come here---and by what 
right you kidnapped our cousin Chakotay."

"I didn't kidnap anyone," Tom snapped in instinctive defense, then took a deep 
breath and calmed. "He's very ill---surely you saw what happened in the 
Colosseum."

"We've been informed of recent events," was the enigmatic reply.

Urgency drove Tom forward. "Well what you don't know is that Chakotay is 
currently in a stasis chamber, his body full of a rare poison. One with no 
antidote." His fists clenched. "All he wanted was to come home."

"And so you have brought him to Dorvan. We are grateful, and bid you depart. 
We'll take care of Chakotay from now on."

Tom could sense a protest gathering behind him, like the shiver in the air 
before lightning strikes. B'Elanna's low growl was echoed in several throats. He 
gestured for them to hold their positions---and tempers. Then he stepped up to 
stand toe to toe with Anthwara. His voice reflected the steel in his eyes, in 
his spine. "I don't think you understand the situation here. Chakotay is *mine*: 
my love, my soulmate, my responsibility." He lifted his eyes to encompass the 
small crowd. "And I am not going to abandon him just because you say so."

"Liar!" The angry shout came from the left, where another cluster of strangers 
had been listening. A blur of motion brought a tall, black-haired Bajoran into 
the fray. "This man---" he spat the word with a mouthful of venom "---contacted 
my family on Chakotay's behalf."

The newcomer paced in front of the silent audience as his companions drifted to 
mix with the Dorvans. "He claimed he was asking Chakotay's in-laws for help and 
information. And that he was Chakotay's next of kin." He stopped and slapped a 
hand to his chest. "I am Tabor Kel. My cousin---Ro Laren, Chakotay's *wife*---
has not even had a decent burial, yet he claims to speak and act for her 
spouse."

Tabor shoved his face into Tom's. "I saw Chakotay fighting in the arena, Paris, 
while you played lapdog to the Emperor who put him in chains. You stink of 
Imperial corruption---the same foul stench that arrived with the troops that 
murdered my cousin."

Tom clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together, and held himself stiff to 
keep from attacking the alien. For a moment he wished he had B'Elanna's ability 
to throw caution to the winds. He desperately wanted to shut the Bajoran up---
with his fist.

Tabor took a step back, crossed his arms and sneered, "You think you can buy 
your way onto this planet, but I'm here to stop you. Whatever *relationship* you 
think you had with Chakotay only existed in your own twisted mind." He snorted. 
"The poor bastard was only on Earth a week or so before he disappeared. Hardly 
enough time for you to 'get to know each other', much less develop the bond you 
describe. Unless, of course, he was ordered to your bed."

Tom could sense the crowd's turmoil. He protested as much to them as to Tabor, 
"No! It's not like that! For years I've---"

"What are you saying?" This time Anthwara interrupted, his voice a mix of shock 
and anger. "Are you suggesting that Chakotay was unfaithful to his wife?" His 
face darkened as he ordered, "Get out of my sight!"

"Enough!" The yell was loud and forceful enough to keep both Tabor's and Tom's 
angry denials at bay. A small Bajoran woman with short reddish hair strode up to 
the trio. A palpable sense of power gave her greater presence than her height 
would suggest. "Tabor, we've been through this already. I can't believe you're 
being this stupid."

Her sharp gesture clamped Tabor's mouth shut on another complaint, but his 
mulish expression shouted his protest.

She stopped and addressed not only Anthwara, but also the small delegation 
behind him. "Ladies, gentlemen, you know me from my visits to Trebus over the 
years." She turned to Tom and his group. "My name is Kira Nerys. Best friend of 
Ro Laren." The woman's face softened in memory as she explained, "Tabor Kel 
knows as well as I do that Chakotay was never unfaithful to his wife."

"So Paris is lying," Anthwara said flatly.

Surprisingly, another voice broke in before Tom could renew his protests. A 
Dorvan woman whose black hair skimmed her waist stepped up and laid a hand on 
Anthwara's shoulder. "Peace." Her dark eyes considered the participants in this 
strange tableau. "Let Nerys speak. There is obviously more to the situation here 
than we know."

"Thanks, Rosera," Kira said with a brief smile, then squared her shoulders and 
continued with the story. "As I said, it's true that Chakotay never broke his 
marriage vows, but it's also true that Tom Paris was---and maybe still is---
Chakotay's beloved."

"Explain yourself," Anthwara snapped.

"Don't listen to her," Tabor insisted, "Laren never said anything about this."

"Of course she didn't." Kira was getting annoyed. "It's not really a suitable 
topic for a family dinner, is it?" She turned back to the Dorvans. "Ro Laren and 
I have known each other since childhood. We had no secrets. Neither did Laren 
and Chakotay."

She glanced a moment toward Tom, curiosity in her gaze. Then she continued, 
"Chakotay and Laren met when he was on extended leave from the Imperial Fleet. 
They clicked, partly because they were in the same situation." She sighed. "Both 
of them were in love with people they could never claim for their own."

Rosera urged Kira on when she paused again. "So they decided to make a life 
together?"

"Yes," Kira replied. "As they spent time getting to know each other, they 
realized that the best they could do was put aside their dreams of the 
impossible for...the possible, you could say. They offered what was left of 
their hearts to each other. And built something good, and strong, and real."

Kira drifted over and laid a hand on Tom's arm. "Laren never begrudged Chakotay 
his dreams of you, because he never asked her to give up her feelings for her 
first love, either." She offered him a bit of a smile. "I'm glad Chakotay will 
have you to help him remake his life."

Tom tried not to wince as the grip on his arm tightened painfully. Kira's 
expression acquired a dangerous edge as she warned, "But I consider Chakotay my 
brother-in-law, so if you hurt him I'll kill you. Slowly."

"Understood," was all Tom said. When the pressure was gone he surreptitiously 
rubbed the sting out of his forearm, wondering how bad the bruise would be. For 
a second he was distracted speculating who would win in a fight between Kira and 
B'Elanna, then Rosera's voice drew his attention.

"You see, Anthwara, Paris's claim is genuine." Rosera leveled a stare at Tabor, 
who nodded and slumped in defeat. "And apparently uncontested."

"Not quite. I concede that Chakotay may have had feelings for the whelp once 
upon a time, but that is all." The old man flicked a glance over Tom. "But the 
evidence of past attachment is not enough to grant him the right to decide 
Chakotay's future."

"Then what *will* convince you?" Tom's frustration drove him forward again. "I 
am *not* leaving him."

"A test, of your place on Dorvan, and in Chakotay's life." Anthwara's eyes 
searched Tom's. "I challenge you to enter the Habak, to go on a vision quest and 
let the spirits themselves decide your fate."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked warily.

"If the quest reveals that you are, indeed, Chakotay's chosen, then you will be 
accepted as such by the tribes of Dorvan. But if you are...deluded...then you 
and all of your associates will leave Chakotay here, and never venture near this 
world again."

"That's a lot to decide based on some mystical mumbo jumbo," Sisko interjected 
mildly.

A young Dorvan, Lakanta, stiffened and growled, "If you don't like our ways, 
offworlder, you can always leave---*without* Chakotay." The man looked like he'd 
prefer that option.

"No, we're staying," Tom said firmly. He first met the eyes of each of his group 
as they nodded their support. Even Sisko gave his silent agreement. Then Tom 
turned and tilted his chin as he looked over the crowd. "I accept the 
challenge."

************************************************************

Tom chose Sisko and Harry to accompany him on the journey to the closest Habak, 
in the nearby village of Solon. The small conical structure sat apart from the 
more mundane buildings. The earth around it was packed from the dance of 
countless feet over the years, and a fire burned in a large pit a few meters 
away.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Paris?" Sisko asked the question as Tom 
emerged from another nearby structure, his only covering a large towel around 
his waist.

"Ready or not, I don't have much choice, do I?" Tom said grimly, his eyes on the 
rising smoke. "They have to accept me, and this is the only way to guarantee 
it."

"What are you going to do if the quest doesn't turn out the way you want?" Harry 
asked as he handed Tom a large cup of water.

Tom drank it down, then met the young man's eyes. "Let me put it this way: the 
'over my dead body' thing wasn't a bluff."

Harry nodded, then quietly confided as he took the empty container, "B'Elanna 
and Greg are standing by. Just give the word and we can be out of here in a 
heartbeat."

Tom clasped each man's shoulder, seasoned warrior and young officer. "Thanks. 
Let's just hope it doesn't come to that." He stepped forward as a towel-clad 
Anthwara appeared from another small hut.

"You ready?" the old man asked.

"Yes." Tom's reply was as clipped as the question. He straightened and moved 
toward the Habak.

"Just a moment." Both men paused, and their eyes widened as Rosera appeared, 
loosely tucking the edge of a towel between her breasts. "I'm going in with 
you."

"Why?" Anthwara demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"You know why---to preserve a sense of balance in the vision quest. Your 
judgement is biased." She shrugged. "So is mine, but in the opposite direction. 
Hopefully what we see between us will be the truth."

Tom gave the woman a grateful smile. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Ah, I'm just a sucker for star-crossed romance." She opened the flap and ducked 
inside. "Let's begin."

***************

Tom's eyes quickly adjusted to the dimness of the interior. He made his way 
around a sizable fire pit and settled cross-legged next to Rosera. "Is there 
anything you need me to do for this ceremony?"

"No, the steam and the herbs will do most of the work. This will be a shared 
quest, so you simply link arms with Anthwara and myself, close your eyes, and 
let the chant take you."

"Take me where?"

"That is what the spirits will decide," Anthwara replied as he took his place at 
Tom's other side. "Remove your towel; it's time."

Tom blushed as he fumbled to untie the knot at his waist. The heat in his cheeks 
increased as he was reflexively compelled to look at the bared bodies on either 
side of him. Anthwara gave a long-suffering sigh, while Rosera winked.

A cool breeze shocked him as the flap opened and Lakanta brought in hot stones. 
He carefully arranged them over the fire. Anthwara sprinkled bunches of herbs 
over them while Rosera poured water, their voices winding together in a chant.

After a moment they laid aside their implements and linked Tom's arms with 
theirs, pressing palm to palm and entwining their fingers.

And still the chant continued, weaving around them like the smoke and the steam 
and the heat. Tom swayed with the rhythm of their words, his eyes drifting shut.

************************************************************

The smell of scorched wood struck him first. Tom's eyes flew open to find 
himself standing in the midst of devastation.

All around him was ash and soot, smoke still rising to drift in the breeze. From 
the charred, fallen trunks and absence of buildings he guessed that he was 
standing in the aftermath of a forest fire.

He felt a keen sense of loss at the destruction of what had probably been lush 
woodland. He wondered where exactly he was, and what happened here. At least his 
dream-self---or was it spirit-self?---was clothed, in a simple tunic, trousers 
and sandals.

Tom was startled by the screech of a bird---and noticed then how complete the 
silence was, before and after. He lifted his eyes to scan for the creature. A 
small shape circled high above, almost lazily beginning a slow spiral down.

As it came closer the silhouette resolved itself into a hawk, its sharp beak and 
talons glinting above the wisps of smoke.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

The voice caused him to jump. Tom turned to see a dark-eyed Bajoran woman 
scrutinizing him, her gaze as sharp as the angles of her cheekbones and chin. 
"Ro Laren?" he asked.

She nodded, the chains of her earring catching the light. "Got it in one, 
Paris." She circled him. "I never thought I'd actually get to meet you." She 
snorted. "I guess I still haven't, technically."

"I'm sorry," Tom said. "What happened to you was...I didn't know what Julian was 
planning, I swear."

"What would you have done if you had?" The question was delivered as the slim 
figure completed her circuit to stand before him once more. Laren waited, arms 
crossed, chin and eyebrows lifted.

"Stopped him." He held her eyes, his voice low and fierce.

"Because of Chakotay?" The question pushed at him the way Laren pushed at his 
chest. He hadn't even seen her close the gap between them.

He stood firm under the assault. "No, because no one deserved what happened to 
you." His voice softened. "Or your son."

Laren stared at this stranger, trying to pierce his blue eyes to see the soul, 
the truth behind. After a moment she relaxed, content with what she read there. 
She settled her weight on one leg, bending the other knee, getting comfortable. 
"I believe you."

Tom sagged with relief. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Oh, you're not out of the woods yet, Paris." The wry humor in her voice brought 
Tom's head up. Laren was regarding him again, not as hostilely but no less 
intently. "Tell me about yourself...and Chakotay."

"Um...." Tom chewed his lip. "I don't know that there's all that much to tell. 
We met when I was 11, met again when I was 17 and recently crossed paths once 
more."

"I hope you can do better than that, or frankly I'm going to knock you on your 
ass where you stand." Ro Laren moved in again, this time shoving her face under 
Tom's. She was pretty sure he didn't understand the precariousness of his 
situation. "I love my husband, and based on that statement I wouldn't trust you 
to take Chakotay to lunch, much less take care of him."

"Not you too," Tom groaned, then loomed over her as he gritted, "Maybe you're a 
ghost or a spirit, maybe you're just some hallucinogen-induced figment of my 
imagination. But let's get one thing clear, lady: I love Chakotay. I have loved 
him for over a decade, and I have longed for the chance to tell him. To make a 
life with him. So I am *damn* well going to be with him for his recovery every 
step of the way, whether you, or the Dorvans, or the spirits like it or not."

"You sound very sure of finding an antidote," she goaded.

"I have to," Tom retorted. "Losing him is not an option."

Her sudden warm, friendly smile startled Tom back a step.

"Good," Laren said with satisfaction, then sobered. "Chakotay's going to need 
all the help he can get."

"He'll have it." Tom reached out, lifting one of her hands and pressing a kiss 
on the back. "I promise."

Laren reached up her other hand to ruffle his hair with her fingers. He couldn't 
read the emotions swirling in her dark eyes. "Just love him, Paris, that's all I 
ask."

Then she lifted her face to the sky and called to the hawk, "He'll do."

The bird swooped down. Tom almost jumped again when it landed on his shoulder, 
talons pricking him through the cloth.

/I'm glad he meets with your approval./ Tom heard the masculine voice in his 
head. He stared at the hawk, who *winked* at him. "Huh?" was all Tom could say.

Laren laughed. "It's weird the first time, isn't it? Tom Paris, say hello to 
your spirit guide."

"Spirit guide? I have a spirit guide?" He paused. "What's a spirit guide?"

/Swift on the uptake, I see. Your answers are Yes, yes and an advisor who can 
help you on your path in life---*if* you wish to walk the ways of Chakotay's 
people./

"Do you have a name?" Tom tried to bring some calm to his confusion with the 
simple question, figuring he'd take things step by step.

/You can address me as 'Brother', but 'Hey You' will do in a pinch./ Tom stifled 
a chuckle and reached a tentative hand to stroke the feathers of the hawk's 
folded wing. The soft edges flowed along his fingertips. "You feel so...real," 
he said in wonder.

/I am real. At least here, in your mind. And I will come when you call. Good 
luck, young one./ With that the bird launched itself once more into the sky.

Tom grimaced, and again heard Laren's laugh. He glanced at her.

"I wouldn't take it personally. Chakotay told me once his guide still calls 
*him* youngster sometimes, and he's 34 now." At the mention of her husband 
Laren's face clouded. "I guess I'd better let you get back to him."

"Will I ever see you again?" Tom asked. His renewed grief for Chakotay's loss 
was mingled with regret of his own. He was sorry he'd never get a chance to know 
Ro Laren, and wished he'd been able to meet her and Chakotay's son.

"I don't know...but if I can you can bet I'll be keeping my eye on you," she 
threatened, then added with another smile, "and keeping an eye out for you, 
too."

The smoke seemed to swirl around them, growing stronger. "Good-bye," he called.

"Farewell," was the faintest of echoes.

***************

Tom jolted awake to the smells of smoke and sweat, the feel of heat from the 
steam and the fire and the bodies close to his. He swallowed and shakily freed 
himself from his companions' grip.

"So now we have our answer." Rosera laid a hand on Tom's shoulder. "Welcome to 
Dorvan, Tom Paris, chosen of Chakotay."

Anthwara huffed and rose without comment, gathering his towel around him once 
more. At the doorway to the Habak he paused and turned back. "You have a 
decision to make, Paris. The spirits have confirmed your right to speak for 
Chakotay. Now you must decide if you wish to accept all of his responsibilities. 
Rosera will explain. You will have one hour to make your choice." The cool air 
that arrived with his exit was a balm to Tom's flushed skin.

"Come on." Rosera replaced her own towel and led a similarly re-covered Tom out 
into the daylight once more. He blinked at the brightness, then turned to 
listen.

Rosera almost chuckled at the befuddled look on the young man's face. "What 
Anthwara meant was that Chakotay now bears the legacy of his tribe. The 
stewardship of Trebus, the lands around it, and all of its people. If you want 
to be Chakotay's next of kin, then those burdens come with the designation."

"But if I do agree, *I* will get to decide Chakotay's treatment?" Tom asked, 
wanting to be clear on that point.

"Oh, definitely. You will be the sole arbiter of his fate, until he can speak 
for himself."

"Then I don't need an hour. I'll take it---everything, whatever."

Rosera shook her head at some private thought, then said. "Why don't you get 
cleaned up and dressed. I'll pass the word and gather the council."

Tom nodded and quickly returned to the hut where his clothes were. Harry and 
Sisko jumped up from their chosen lounging spots on the ground in front of it.

"What was it like?" Harry asked eagerly, handing Tom a full container of water 
as he passed.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Sisko chimed in with a raised brow.

Tom gulped the cool liquid, waving away their questions. "For now, I'll just say 
really strange, but apparently effective. I'm going to be officially accepted in 
a minute or two, so I need to get dressed."

"And bathed, if you would be so kind," Sisko added smoothly. Harry just wrinkled 
his nose and nodded.

Tom grimaced and muttered, "Thanks for the reminder," as he ducked into the hut. 
But he did make good use of the soap, water and towels provided.

In a few minutes he reappeared, dressed and smelling a lot fresher, his hair 
still wet.

The group that had surrounded Kassidy's ship earlier in the day approached the 
trio. Kira, Tabor, B'Elanna, and Greg were with them.

They stopped and Anthwara's voice filled the air. "The spirits have decreed that 
this offworlder, Thomas Eugene Paris, may speak with Chakotay's voice. He has 
accepted the responsibilities that come with that right. Is that not so?" He 
looked at Tom.

Tom could sense an air of expectancy in the crowd. He had the sudden feeling 
that he really didn't know what he was getting himself into. Regardless, he 
wasn't going to give himself any other choice. "Yes."

"Very well. You and all you assign are granted access to Trebus. We ask that you 
consult with the council and regional government before you begin making 
decisions about what to do with the land, and who should dwell upon it." 
Anthwara gestured to someone behind Tom.

Rosera stepped forward. There were two children with her, one on each side, 
clutching her hands. "You may immediately take custody of Chakotay's nieces, 
Jelene and Koral, the only other survivors of the massacre of Trebus." She 
watched Tom pale and reassured him, "You realize, if you aren't up to the task, 
we will make other arrangements."

Lakanta sneered, "Or, of course, you can change your mind and go back to the 
Imperial Palace."

Tom swallowed, and stared down at the two young girls, their black hair, deep 
brown eyes, bone structure and tawny skin proclaiming their connection to 
Chakotay.

Two sets of long-lashed, innocent, curious and slightly frightened eyes stared 
back.

TBC