The BLTS Archive - Remembering Life
Ninth in the 1000 Raps series

---

Spoilers: Broken Bow, Two Days and Two Nights

Comments: if anyone would like to borrow any of these aliens, go right
ahead. dedicated to: once more, Layla & Shi_shi2525 have provided the
inspiration of this. Shi_Shi, I bow to your power and
influence--Hoshi's ancestry is an allowance to you. The title is taken
with great respect from the African proverb of "Work is good, provided
you do not forget to live." (from the same book). This takes place one
uneventful week after "Trip and the Onion". The Enterprise seems to
have finally left the run-down & very bad neighborhood.and entered a
merely strange one. the *Siiruu* biology is borrowed from Earthly
fishes. everything in dreams stems someway-or-other from reality,
however strangely or tenuous the connection. this is the origin of
"Stinky". comment from my Hoshi muse: "In the original concept draft,
Malcolm was the one unconcious. I don't know how I let myself be
talked into being conked out.

---

Phlox was the only one who was taking the news well.

Malcolm amended that thought: Phlox was the only one from Enterprise
who was taking the news well. "It's nothing to worry about, Captain,"
he said into the communicator to Enterprise. "The Siiruu say that we
can take Ensign Sato with us after she recovers."

Trip grabbed the communicator out of Phlox's hand. "No, Capt, the
Siiruu ain't taking Hoshi to any of their hospitals--and I'm starting
to wonder if they have any at all." Trip listened to Archer's reply.
"They aren't moving her, and they won't let us move her. Some bull
about divining her fate and their destiny." Listening. "Understood,
sir. Tucker out," and closed the communicator. "We're bringing her up
to Enterprise," Trip announced to the humans, Siiruu, and Denobulan in
earshot.

"You dare not," said the nearest Siiruu, a new-male with shiny grey
feather-like structures that were nearly true feathers, but not quite.

"Oh I do dare," Trip said, about two steps from getting in new-his
face. "In fact, I'm doing right now."

That one opened new-his beak, and three needles slid forwards from
the muscle grooves which normally held them. Tri-fanged, Trip noted,
trying not to hear the deliberate clicking of Siiruu talons against
the rock ground. "Do you offer your fate for addition, or your flesh
for subtraction?"

Phlox pulled Trip back just in time to avoid being sliced open. The
new-male didn't follow them.

"Commander, you can thank me later," Phlox said. "Right now, I need
you to be more helpful and less argumenative."

"Doc, these people are--"

"Well within their rights, Commander Tucker. This is their planet,
and you should consider that they weren't obligated to accept our
offer to help treat Ensign Sato."

"'Treat'? They aren't doing anything! They're just standing around,
thumbs up their butts--if they have any--and waiting for something to
happen."

"They're checking for demons," Crewman Cutler said, interjecting as
she walked by. "They won't do anything if they think the results are
faulty."

"What makes you so sure?" Trip wanted to know.

Cutler raised a corner of her lip in a half-smile. "Three years
Catholic schooling in the back of beyond. That's where they have the
really old traditions." She didn't mention when she nearly became a
nun.

"I believe humans have a like mind on this," Phlox said.

"You're shi++ing me, right?" Trip asked. "How the hell do humans
approve of the sort of crap these birdbrains are doing?"

Phlox, looking completely nonbugged, replied with, "'There is special
providence in the fall of every sparrow.'"

Normally, Malcolm would have enjoyed the look on Trip's face, or just
at the Commander being proved wrong. But not now; most definately and
completely not now!

He wasn't looking at the Commander at all. He was sitting at Hoshi's
side, his hand on hers. The Siiruu had forbade him from holding her
hand--the risk of changing fate and destiny, they said, was too great
to risk. The fact that she was even alive after this, they said and
Phlox agreed, was a minor miracle...so Malcolm resolved to say prayers
of THANK YOU! to every deity he knew of. Just as soon as Hoshi
recovered. "Hoshi," Malcolm said quietly soft, his voice for her
alone. "Hoshi, it's me, Malcolm."

Hoshi made a little sound, almost a murmur; and the Siiruu assigned
to keep watch over the fallen body of Hoshi Sato, old-she nearly
crowed at the change. There was a rapid-fire conversation in canary
chirps between old-her and the new-he that'd argued with Trip not long
before now.

"Hoshi," Malcolm said, afraid of what might've happened to her mind.
"Hoshi, do you remember anything?"

---
HOSHI'S PAST:


I get out of the helicopter after the Vulcan does. Vorrkerr or
something along those lines; is it possible for a Vulcan to be a
prince? Because that's what I think of when I look at him. The harsh
sunlight and dry air don't seem to bother him as much as me.

Some of the locals, children they seem to be, call out in a language
that isn't Arabic, and Arabic's the only language of this area that I
know even half-well. Suddenly the prospect of spending a month in the
Afar Route, a traditionalist enclave for the preservation of ancient
ways, doesn't seem so appetizing.

Out of one of the tents comes a handful of people, humans all of them
by their appearance. Only one of them isn't as dark as the others...in
fact, he's downright Caucasian! "Good morning," he tells us, first in
Arabic, then in British English. His accent's definately there, though
it doesn't render the Arabic incomprehensable. In a moment of
stupidity, I half expect him to say he represents the Raj.

This is morning? I think my hair's already starting to stick to my
neck.

"It is--pleasant," Vorrkerr agrees in English, American English. "My
papers," handing them over to him.

"What makes you think I'm in charge?" he asks, accepting the papers.

"You accepted the papers."

He whispers something to the man standing next to him, and that man
looks like a chief or king. "I might just be the errand boy," the
first man says, "or the village idiot." He opens the sheaf and skims
over it. "You're a Vulcan."

"Your grasp of the obvious is quite firm."

If he noticed the slight, he didn't respond to it. "Did you read
anything about the Afar before you came to this part of Africa?"

"Yes."

He nods, as though he expected that answer. "Let me guess; you read
about the salt caravans of men and camels, right?" Vorrkerr nods.
"Then you missed the chapter added after your people showed up. Most
tribes don't like Vulcans."

"That is illogical. How many Vulcans have they met?"

Now the man looked like he was about to laugh, in the Vulcan's face
no less! "You think you're the first Vulcan to want to walk the salt
caravan route? Now that's illogical, making an assumption like that.

"I'll tell you flatly, since I've said it so many times before: They
see your kind as a bad spirit, worse than the Ifrit or Djinns. You
stay here, or show up at any point along the way, and these people
will vanish--almost literally. So I suggest, Mr Vulcan, that you head
back to the 'choper, and go back to your Embassy enclave."

Then he utterly ignores the Vulcan, and turns to face me. Oh dear,
I'm not dressed for this sort of weather, let alone the culture...am
I?

"Your papers, please," he asks me in clear Arabic. I hand them to
him, and wait as he leafs through each paper, one by one. I can't help
sweating, even a pant or three. With a smile, he hands me my papers
back after two minutes, though it feels like five. "University of
Delhi?" he asks me, still in Arabic. "You're a long way from home."

"I came," I say, though my speech is broken Arabic, only partly from
the heat already taking its toll on me, "to study the surviving Afar
language. I'd like to learn it."

He translates this into the local language for the benefit of his
companions, and they all laugh. I feel like shriveling up and hiding
somewhere--and that feeling isn't from the heat. "This is the age of
space exploration," he tells me. "Dozens and more of alien species,
each with many languages of their own. Why would you want to learn the
speech of the Afar people?" His look is as piercing as the noonday sun
must be...and if this is only the morning...

"I like people," I say, mentally kicking myself over how stupid I
must sound. "And I'm probably not going to go into deep space." That
and one of my language teachers reccomended learning a few human
languages outside of my own lingua franca's language family.

And again he translates my words. At least I think those're my
words--maybe he's just making a snide remark.

"Malcolm Reed," he introduces himself, without any titles or offices
appended to his name.

"Hoshi Sato," I say, leaving unsaid and un-implied that I'm gunning
for my doctorate.

He nods, though an eyebrow of his is up partway. Probably wondering
about my name. "Let's get you some water, shall we?" he asks, and
leads me towards one of the few tents.

---
THE PRESENT:


Elisabeth jotted down notes to give her something to do. The Siiruu
had decided that Hoshi didn't have any demons, so now they were
watching Hoshi intently, watching and listening. According to Phlox,
the next step was to shout questions at destiny--in this case, at
Hoshi.

She looked over her notes...[i]'Siiruu can be born as either male or
female; these are refered to by means of pronouns which translate as
young-he and young-she. When one of these reaches adulthood, or
puberty, I'm not yet sure; a young-he becomes female, and a young-she
becomes male; these have the pronouns of new-she and new-he. Old-he
and old-she are used for Siiruu who are molting out of their current
gender; I don't know if they then become neuter, or just continue the
cycle.'[/i]

Elisabeth nodded to herself. Yeah, Hoshi'd be proud of that. Proof
positive that Elisabeth'd been listening to her on all those plane and
train trips.

The sound of feet on stone, near-constant as it was lately, caught
her attention. Yes, it was Malcolm pacing yet more. Back and forth,
back and forth. Like an expectant father, Elisabeth thought to
herself, and allowed herself a pang of regret for what
might-have-been. Her and Malcolm.

But Elisabeth hadn't ever objected to Hoshi's having him. To her
mind, it was better her cousin than anyone else!

Then there was another set of walking on stones. Commander Tucker had
arrived, and was saying something about the Enterprise.

Elisabeth tilted her head so her good ear was facing the
conversation, and she moved her hand so any casual observers would
think she was sketching the local scenery.

"Captain Archer wants you up there, and he wants you up there now!"

"Then you'll just have to inform the Captain that I'm not leaving
here." Not without Hoshi, he mentally added.

"You wanna be court-martialed? That can happen."

"Try it," Malcolm said challenging. "You might find I can't be
court-martialed."

"Dammit, you're the--"

"Commander Tucker, I'm flattered that you think I'm the only member
of Enterprise's crew who knows how to fire a torpedo. But, since I
don't like seeing people wallow in delusions, I have to break it to
you that I'm not the only armory officer on Enterprise."

"I could force you up there."

Malcolm gave a wry little smile, only half-hearted though.
"Commander, to do that, you'd have to render me unconcious. And I
don't think an unconcious armory officer would do any good in a battle
senario." He paused. "Besides, if I'm being court-martialed, or
readied for a court-martial, I couldn't & shouldn't man that station
anyway."

Trip half-growled and half-grumbled.

Elisabeth hoped Hoshi recovered before there was blood spilt...on
anyone's part.

---
HOSHI'S PAST:


"So," I asked my cousin as we walked down the Nature Preserve's trail
here in Madagascar, "how was your visit to Cyprus?" I have to admit,
being somewhat jealous--I've not yet visited the unified island off
the Turkish coastline.

We're here to visit an old college friend of mine: Pinar Booth.

"It was nice," Elisabeth tells me. "I went all around Cyprus, north
to south, east to west...and I have the sunburn to prove it," with a
grin, which I return. Then it hits us, and hard: That smell...what is
that?? Elisabeth asks the same question. We walk around the shack, and
see Pinar talking with--with Malcolm.

I think it's Malcolm who smells. Almost like a lemur. "Lemur?" I ask
in Malagasy.

Pinar nods. "The one who is smelling, he says in Arabic that he was
walked on by a lemur species that he couldn't find in the guidebook."
Granted, those books are never perfect, but still. "Stinky."

I like the nickname...his personal musk's probably quite
nice-smelling.

Malcolm looks from Pinar to me. "That was definately not Arabic," he
says in Arabic. The look on Pinar's face practically mutters 'tourist'
to me. "Could the three of you teach it to me?" which raises him a
notch or two in her estimation--willingness to learn.

"It depends," Pinar says, this time in Arabic.

"On what?" Malcolm asks.

Standard question, I decide after sharing a look with Pinar. "What's
your first language?" I ask him.

Malcolm looks trapped, caught like a deer in the headlights, a lemur
in a sauna, a hippo at a weight-watcher's convention. Then his face
relaxes back to normal. "I don't have one," he says, and honestly.

"You don't?" I can't help but ask.

"That's right."

"Malcolm," I say, "everybody has a first language."

He shakes his head. "Not me."

Pinar sighs, about ready to throw up her hands. "He's all yours, lady
of the Middle Kingdom's neighbor, conquerer of Kublai's fleet." There
are times that the Malagasy language's tendancy to form things so you
don't have to give a person's name--it can get annoying at times.

And there are times when it's used for a joke. "That would make me,"
I reply in Malagasy, "nine centuries old."

"Well," Pinar says, switching to Arabic, "you do realize that there
can be only one, don't you?" Now, old friend, are you making a
statement of faith, or a joke about your 'Highlander' obsession?

---
THE PRESENT:


Trip was over at the Enterprise shuttle, having gone up to the ship,
helped out in the firefight that'd taken place between the Enterprise
and the Mystery 'Ship, then brought down some guys from his own
department to forcibly bring Malcolm up to the Enterprise.

Elisabeth was still at her rock, but now she was learning a new
branch of medicine: the sort with toxic and venomous species...for she
was trying to help a young-he whose center venom fang wasn't moving
very well. Phlox was acting as one advisor, and a Siiruu medic was
also advising.

And Travis Mayweather walked up to Malcolm, who was watching Hoshi,
and Malcolm was sitting alongside a few score of Siiruu who were also
keeping eyes on Hoshi--though not for the same reason as Malcolm was.

"Lieutenant?" Travis asked.

"Ensign," Malcolm replied, a lot calmer than he would've spoken to
Tucker. He was right, in his eyes, to have told the Ones Without Names
that the Commander's name was 'Food'.

"You've been down here for days."

"I'm aware of the cycles that planets are wont to make," Malcolm
said.

"Have you had any sleep? Anything to eat?"

"Not tired, and not hungry. Next question."

"You have to sleep," Travis said. "Everybody does. And eat too."

Malcolm gave a tiny baby yawn. "I was once invited to a fasting
contest with the Dali Lama. Neither one of us slept, nor did we eat. I
would've beaten him too, if it wasn't for the fact that it would've
lost him considerable face--given a form of dishonor," he clarified
for Travis and any Siiruu who were interested.

"Come on up," Travis said. "I've got this game, like nothing you've
ever seen before." Malcolm raised an eyebrow, and wondered if
Mayweather had any inkling of how many games Reed had seen. "It'll
take your mind off things," Travis said, trying to help out.

"A game?" Malcolm asked, doing his level best not to laugh. "What
sort of a game can do that?" To his mind, only Hoshi recovered could
have such an effect.

The game, Travis told him, was one that Boomers had developed into a
board game with a rulebook...though he didn't doubt that it preceeded
Mankind's expansion into space. "Even T'Pol's agreed to play."

Further discussion was prevented by the sound of human feet
approaching. Many human feet. Not enough to outnumber or even equal
the scores of Siiruu who were present by now...but enough to take
Malcolm into custody.

And Malcolm didn't doubt that that was their intention--not with Trip
Tucker leading them forth.

"You had a chance," Trip said. "We're placing you under arrest. You
can come easy, or we can do our impression of a bar-room brawl."

Malcolm had to give Trip credit for one thing, at least: not
succumbing to being completely cliched.

Hoshi coughed, a sound that shook Malcolm's senses. She was back!!
"Mal-col-lm?" Hoshi asked for, in a weak and broken-up voice.

Just then, the ground shook. Not even a 1.1 earthquake, but a tremor
they could all feel. Though their instincts screamed for them to fly
to safety, all of the Siiruu kept their feet on the ground. Similarly,
the Humans and Denobulan also ignored their own instincts.

Then, before everyone's eyes, something happened to the rock that
Hoshi's hand lay upon: water sprang up from under it, flowing down the
stonefaces.

Malcolm was afraid that the Siiruu would want to keep Hoshi for
themselves...their own prophet, or deity. No matter how much Malcolm
wanted to worship her all by himself.

A Siiruu, a young-she by the look of her emerald featherys, addressed
Malcolm: "You may take her to your roost."

The new-he from earlier, new-he looked at Trip with the look that
new-his kind used for their smiles. "You may go now," new-he said.

---
HOSHI'S PAST:


Mayan pyramids to all sides of us, the tour guides not running today
for tourists. This is where he said to meet him. But where is he?

"Where are we?" Elisabeth asked, looking at the mammoth stone
building in front of us.

I check our location with the map. "The Pyramid of the Magician."

"Please don't tell me we have to walk up all those stairs," Elisabeth
begs. Based on the sound of her voice, I'd guess that her eyes are
wide at the sight of all those stairs. According to the travel
brochure, each of the four sides has an equal number of stairs; and
when you add up the total number of stairs, you have the number of
days in the year.

"Well, I would have prefered a witness," Malcolm says; me and
Elisabeth jump a little, since he did sneak up on us. "But you can
stay down here if you like."

"It's safe?" she asks.

Malcolm nods. "Completely." To me, "Shall we ascend?"

"Sure," I say.

"But no funny business!" Elisabeth says.

Malcolm gives her a look that says 'who, me?'

So we go up the stairs, just me and Malcolm. He's carrying a sachel
on his shoulder, and he won't tell me what's in it. Alls I'm carrying
is my backpack; which would be empty, were it not for my camera in it.
I'm not sure how long it took for us to reach the summit of this
pyramid: after a while, I just focused on taking one more step, then
another...one after another.

Finally, we reach the top, and the both of us, we sit down and gasp
for breath. We get our second or third wind...And then IT happened!:

The sun performed it's annual trick--and I miss it, because just
then, Malcolm reaches into his sachel and holds out his fist.

I uncurl each finger, one by one...And see what he had hidden:

Two golden rings, not blemished by fancy jewels or stones.

"You got--They're just--I, well--" I stammer. I think I stammered for
a few minutes before saying "Yes!"

Malcolm didn't mind the stammering. He just smiled and knelt at my
feet. "Mi'lady," he says, full of chivalry.

---
LATER, ON ENTERPRISE:


It had taken some time, but Hoshi was finally recovered enough to
hobble around on crutches. It wasn't that she didn't trust Phlox, but
the thought of a bonesetter jellyfish wrapped around any part of her
body...

"Shall I open the door for you, Musa?" Malcolm asked, envying the
crutches their constantly-touching of his wife...and yet hating that
the crutches were ever required.

"Malcolm, sweet," Hoshi said. "I didn't bring the water to the
surface, so please stop calling me Moses."

Malcolm nodded, and waved his hand in front of the door, making it
open for her. "As you wish," unwittingly quoting the movie 'The
Princess Bride'.

"Over here, over here!" Travis invited them to a table. Malcolm sat
down, after helping Hoshi sit down...despite Trip's presence at the
table. "Now, about that game I mentioned..."

"I thought you said T'Pol was going to play as well," Malcolm asked.

Travis shrugged. "Something urgent appearently came up."

Trip snickered. "I bet."

Shrugging, Travis shuffled the deck of cards. "Each card has a
question," he explained. "Everyone but the person who draws the card
has to answer the question."

"What's the point then?" Trip asks, not getting it.

"Well, if you don't have an answer, then you don't have to answer,"
Travis said. He set the deck down. "I'll show you..." he motioned for
Hoshi to draw the first card of the game.

"'Favorite place...on Earth'," she quoted.

"University of Delhi," Malcolm said with a smile on his face.

"Grandma Tucker's house," Trip said. When Travis didn't say anything,
Trip said "C'mon, Travis, answer the question."

"That's what I was saying. I don't have a favorite place on the
Earth--it's in space. Therefore, I can't answer...and I get a point."

"Do I get a point?" Hoshi asked.

Travis shook his head. "Dealers aren't allowed to answer, whether
they have one or not."

"Oh."

He shrugged, then picks up the next card. "Oh, good one; 'most
awkward relative'."

"Emperor Hirohito," Hoshi says.

"Dowager Empress," Malcolm says.

"Empress of where?" Trip wants to know. "The question--"

"Didn't specify a living relative," Malcolm answered. "And the answer
is China."

---

The End