VIRTUAL SEASON 7.5

episode 19

Celebrations: The Prixin Logs

One of the joys of working on Voyager Season 7.5 has been the truly collaborative nature of the project. This co-operation has been particularly evident during the writing of this episode. I would like to thank each one of my co-authors for their help in constructing The Prixin Logs. I would particularly like to thank Penny Proctor and Rocky. Without their invaluable assistance I would never have been able to proceed. cm

Starting with our next story, we will be posting every other week.

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Personal log: Cadet Naomi Wildman. Stardate: 54994

I hope there are songs tonight. I love the Prixin songs. I've been trying to teach some of them to Icheb but he says singing is unnecessary. I think it's because his singing is not exactly - well, he doesn't sing as well as he does some other things.

Prixin will be very different this year. First of all, we're on a planet. I've never been on a planet for this long before. As a matter of fact I've only been off of Voyager a few times. Of course I sometimes I go out on the 'Flyer with Tom, but that doesn't really count. I once went on an away mission with Mom. She got special permission from the Captain to take me with her. It was a beautiful planet - there was a beach and we collected stones and shells on the shore. I still have all of them in a jar beside my bed. Sometimes when I open the jar I can almost smell the sea air and salt water. I think I'll give one of the shells to Icheb for Prixin. I understand about not getting married so quickly, I really do. But he's my special one, I know it. And I know he knows it too.

Pause recording.

Naomi paused the computer and clambered onto her bed. She reached for the glass container she had described, searched through the shells and stones it held until she found the one she sought, fished it out and brushed it on the bedcovers. Its muted pastel hues were enhanced by her gentle buffing, and she studied it for a moment as it sat in the palm of her hand. She placed carefully on her bedside table and returned to her desk.

Resume recording:

And of course this year we will have a guest for Prixin. A representative from the Grevel-Ash. Her name is Falon Col. I think she's a teacher, but I'm not sure. I wonder what she teaches. I wonder what she'll think of us.

I wonder if this will be the last Prixin we celebrate together. Everyone seems to think we'll get to Earth soon. Maybe we could celebrate it anyhow - even after we get back. It could be like a yearly reunion - we could all see each other and catch up and stuff. I want to get to Earth, I mean home, I really do. I can't wait to meet my Dad, and my cousins and my grandparents. I'll get to really go to Star Fleet Academy. But it's funny because I'm sort of nervous about it. I haven't even told this to Mom. Or to Icheb. But I think of Voyager as my home. And I'm going to miss it very much when our trip is over.

It was nice of Neelix to let me set up the candles. I know the Prixin traditions mean so much to him. He told me last year that the second and third days - the Days of Remembrance - are the hardest for him. I think they're hard on the Captain too. I watched her last year when she lit the red candle, the Memory candle. I thought about some of the people that Mom has told me about who have died. I don't remember many of them - but I do remember Ensign Kaplan. She used to read to me sometimes. And I still miss Seven. I guess those days of Memory are difficult for everyone. Maybe I'll mention that during the third day recitations.

End personal log.

Naomi deactivated the computer and leaned back in her chair. She had helped Neelix, finished her latest assignment from the Doctor, completed her log entry and made her bed. A thoroughly satisfactory morning.

And Mom will be happy too - she grinned at the thought.

The New Hope sun shone brightly through the portal over her bed, a long stream of light casting prismatic reflections onto her desk. She still had to make something for tonight's grab bag. But what? She gazed outside. She could see various members of Voyager's crew going about their business. Some carried pieces of equipment to and fro. Others had their hands full of produce - Neelix will be pleased with the harvest, she thought. She spotted Icheb chatting with Vorik, and the day got even brighter.

"I'm going out there," she said out loud. "It's too nice a day to just sit inside. And besides," she thought to herself, "maybe the sunshine will inspire me. I bet I'll think of something out there."

Personal Log of Professor Falon Col:

I record this from the alien ship known as "Voyager," in the private cabin they have assigned to me. Their Chief Medical Officer assures me that there are no finer quarters available. I deem them acceptable but lacking in the amenities that are the hallmark of Grevel-Ash hospitality. There is no style that I can discern; everything appears to be functional but nothing more. The furniture has been placed without regard for the aura of the space. There is not even an attempt to use color to create an atmosphere. And worst of all, there is no ambient music unless expressly ordered although, after reviewing the selections available on their databank, that may be wise after all. I encountered something called "Bagpipes" that sounded like animals being tortured. Fortunately, I located a category entitled "Renaissance/Chanson" that was reminiscent of the Trollan Era of courtmusic at home.

Home. It is a full three months before this tour of duty will be over and I can be home again. When the Dean informed me that I had been selected again for this assignment, I could have wept. The Treaty Planet is isolated and primitive and the only way to get here is by military transport. I fully understand our need to maintain our place in the rotation of guardianship, but why an academic ecologist such as myself must remain on the planet during our watch is incomprehensible to me. I think we do it only because the Minenne do it, and who knows why the Minenne do anything. Thankfully, during this rotation, the Senate wants more than ecological reports; they want updates on the progress this Voyager is making in its repairs and they want me to monitor their exploitation of the planet's resources to assure that they do not violate their agreement. To that end, they petitioned Voyager's captain to allow me to live on the ship instead of that miserably primitive cabin in the woods I was forced to live in last time.

Voyager's captain is named Kathryn Janeway. She and her senior staff were present to greet me when I arrived, showing that they have at least a rudimentary understanding of protocol and courtesy. They look remarkably like we Grevel-Ash, except that they are hirsute, more so even than the Gunrath'u, although at least the Gunrath'u have a better sense of color. The colors of hair seem to be limited to variations on brown, black or yellow. But so much of it, and worn in so many variations! The captain's hangs to her shoulders, with no ornamentation or visible dressing. And it sheds. I saw a stray hair on her shoulder. The men do not seem to keep theirs as long but on most of them it seems to be quite thick. The exception was the civilian, the one called Neelix. He had hair on his face, hair that stuck outwards and hair that dripped down his back.

It was all quite disgusting, but I congratulate myself that I kept my reactions hidden. I had a few bad moments wondering how I would be able to respond to the guest spouse they offered when Captain Janeway said that ordinarily that shaggy Neelix would be my liaison. For a moment I could not breathe. Then she said that unfortunately, he was going to be busy the next few days and would I mind if her Chief Medical Officer served as my liaison officer?

I almost collapsed in relief; he had less hair than anyone else in the room. He also, I noticed, had less odor. The others did not smell unpleasant, but they did each have a distinctive scent. The physician had none.

Nor did he have a name. It took a few moments for me to understand that this ship's Chief Medical Officer is a hologram and yet treated as a member of the crew. Obviously their holography technology is far beyond our own. He is interactive, fully mobile and apparently sentient. Captain Janeway apparently holds him in high regard and I could tell she meant no insult in offering me an artificial life form as a guest spouse.

"How should I address you?" I asked him.

"'Doctor' will suffice," he told me. I have to admit, I liked his voice. It resonated more vibrantly than that of most Grevel-Ash males, even my beloved Crolis.

Captain Janeway said, "I'm afraid you've arrived at a rather busy time for us. Besides working on repairing the ship, we're about to begin a holiday celebration. You are more than welcome to join us if you wish."

"Oh? What is the holiday?"

"Prixin," Neelix told me eagerly. "It's an eight day celebration of family."

"Eight days?" I asked, thinking that I had found the explanation for the slowness in repairs. These people set festivals above work. They are either very devout or very hedonistic.

"It's a Talaxian holiday," Neelix continued. "Perhaps you've heard of it."

"I'm afraid not." Honestly. The Federation that was Voyager's home was closer to Grevel-Ash than Talaxia and I'd never heard of it; why would he think I had heard of his holiday? "We have no eight day holidays in my culture."

Commander Chakotay seemed to understand my point. "We have nightly ceremonies but work continues as usual during the day."

"Although the holiday spirit does seem to affect everyone," Captain Janeway added with a smile. "Unfortunately, it also forces us to be very efficient when we are at work. With your permission, the Doctor will escort you to your quarters and then give you a tour of the ship."

And so, here I am. The Doctor left me to unpack and freshen up before returning for my tour. He has also offered to escort me to this evening's opening Prixin ceremony. I believe I shall go. Fortunately, I packed my new dress feather, the one that's deep blue, in case there was a formal occasion on the military transport.

I am somewhat confused, though, as I can find no personal articles for the guest spouse in these quarters. Perhaps a hologram requires none.

Lieutenant Joe Carey's personal log stardate 54995.3.

After meeting with Lieutenant Torres, I returned to repairs on Voyager's hull. External repairs have progressed faster than expected. The captain has asked for a test of space-worthiness-before we actually try to leave New Hope. The Vordai have finally agreed to our request to use their space dock. Fortunately the Vordai representative who relayed the message to us was only on the screen. The restrictions on personnel who can work in the space dock are pretty extensive, and Lieutenant Torres was furious.

I've spent my free time going over the data from the ersatz Dauntless and our one failed attempt with the modified slipstream. I come away wishing the transwarp coil hadn't been fried. It's now just a solid puddle of metals. We could stumble across another working coil, or take the 15 years to get home. It beats 75, but it is still too long. I could be a grandfather by then.

The slipstream technology is problematic, with an unpleasant history...But, I'm to make a presentation to the Captain after the Prixin festivities. I need to prove to her that it is safe, worthwhile, and feasible.

Maybe I need to prove it to me too.

End log.

Joe leaned back in his chair and studied the PADD. "So, what if we increase the amplitude..." His voice faded with frustration at the results. "I have eight days to get this to work..." His combadge chirped.

"Carey here."

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Neelix said. "But I was hoping you were planning to come to the Prixin opening ceremonies."

"I'll be there Neelix, don't worry. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

With laughter and with tears.

We light the candles of Prixin with trust in tomorrow.

With hope and with fears.

We light the candles of Prixin with pain and with pleasure

With faith and with pride

We light the candles of Prixin. Together. We treasure

The light they provide."

Janeway touched the burning match to the wick of the thick white center candle and it caught immediately, blazing momentarily upwards and then settling back down to a steady flame. She blew out the match and waited until it cooled before putting it down on the table.

"We are celebrating our seventh Prixin together," Janeway continued. "And over the years, as you know we have developed a few of our very own first night traditions."

There were a few titters of anticipatory laughter from the back of the crowd and a couple of suspicious coughs from one of the far corners of the room. Janeway couldn't quite suppress her own grin.

"Each year," she addressed Falon Col, who was standing beside the EMH, wearing a very large feather and looking rather disapproving "we begin our festivities with a song. And this year I have been given the privilege of choosing the song leader. Our own EMH, who is an accomplished musician, has often led us in this part of our program. The Doctor, who had puffed up in pride at the mention of his name, looked as if he would burst.

"But this year, I thought we'd give someone else a chance." Janeway continued quickly, before the Doctor could interrupt.

"Commander Chakotay?" Janeway turned around to look for her first officer. "I think it's your turn, don't you?"

The crew erupted in laughter. Everyone knew the captain had been trying to get the commander to sing during talent night for years. She had often been heard to say that if she could dance as a dying bird, the least he could do was warble. So far he had been able to avoid all her ploys. But she'd gotten him tonight, and he knew it.

Chakotay made his way through the crowd and came to stand beside the captain. His expression was pained, but stoic. He held up his hands in submission and glanced quickly down at Kathryn Janeway who was making no effort to hide her glee.

"All right, all right," he said as the laughter subsided. "Here's what we'll do. You're divided into three sections. I'll start - section one comes in after the first line, section two, after the second, section three after the third. You all know this one. Are you ready?"

He didn't give them any time to respond but began immediately:

"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream...."

Personal Log, Neelix, Delta Quadrant Ambassador. Stardate 54996.9

Whew! I'm exhausted. This log won't be a long one. But the first night of Prixin was a great success, even if I have to say so myself. Mind you, the Captain told me at least three times how pleased she was, and even Commander Tuvok complimented me on my Vulcan Mocha.

Commander Chakotay was a good sport tonight. He got everyone into the mood right away with his first song. By the third one, something I believe he called "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" everyone was singing along with him.

The grab bag gifts were lovely this year. I think almost everyone used something from New Hope as part of their gift. Naomi wove a small basket from the lestil grasses that grow on the slopes of the hills just outside our compound. She filled it with flowers. Marla Gilmore got it. Harry Kim carved a whistle from plent wood. B'Elanna drew that one. She said it was a perfect gift and that she's going to use it to wake Tom when it's his turn to do three a.m. feedings. The Captain painted a small picture of the river bank. I got that one. I'm going to hang it in a very special place in my quarters.

I think everyone enjoyed my buffet tonight. I must thank Sarexa for all her help. I'll have to think of something special for her.

I'd better go now. I've got to get up very early. Tomorrow night's dinner is waiting to be prepared. I will admit (in this log, only) that the formal dinners are more difficult for me. But I like the challenge of them. And I do like the way the mess hall looks in the candlelight.

Neelix out.

Sarexa's Prixin Log - Day of Remembrance:

Uh <cough> computer, begin recording.

I've never kept a log before. I had a diary when I was small but it was a silly thing, keeping track of the clothes I wore and which of the young men sprouted whiskers first. But Neelix says that we surely will be on Earth for our next Prixin or the one after that, and I want to remember these days forever.

We've begun Prixin; we just celebrated the second day. On this ship, Prixin is an annual celebration. Neelix introduced it to the crew years ago and they have adopted as their own ritual, honoring their families here and in their Alpha Quadrant. It is something they all look forward too.

It has been a long time since I celebrated the season. After all, Prixin is about family, and what family do I have left? My parents were killed in the war with the Haakonians, and my brother and sister were taken by the Borg at the same time I was. I pray that they are dead.

"Computer, pause. "

Sarexa stared at nothing, remembering the last Prixin she had celebrated. The longer she was an individual, the more her memories returned. At first they had been little more than flashes or brief sensory perceptions but that last Prixin was suddenly clear in her mind.

They had been at her grandparents' home, a large rambling place built to hold a large family. She was twelve, and permitted to help with the meal even though she hadn't reached the Age of Maturity. She'd been helping her mother with the meals for years. The game roasted on a spit and filled the kitchen with a rich, savory aroma; it was her job to keep it basted and moist. Her mother peeled and spiced the tubers while her Aunt Lexali prepared the moolt sauce for the compote. Grandmother put the finishing touches on the trove bars, reciting her secret recipe aloud so Sarexa could learn it. The women laughed and spoke easily, telling stories on themselves and their husbands as if Sarexa were one of them, and she had never felt so grown up.

The men had trooped in from the yard. Had it been cold? She couldn't quite remember that, but she did remember that her brother Norixital had tried to sneak one of the trove bars off the cooling rack and Grandmother had slapped his hand. Even so, he had taken the bar. He had just reached manhood but still had the charming smile of a little boy and Grandmother could deny him nothing. Even as he chewed, he had pressed a kiss to Sarexa's forehead. "Look at you, all grown up," he had said. "And getting prettier every day."

But that was long ago and what meager beauty she once possessed had been taken by the Borg, along with her family. Voyager's Doctor had worked miracles with her appearance, but when she looked in the mirror, she still saw the scars.

Resume recording. <ahem> Neelix has been in his element for days as we prepared all the traditional foods. Actually, 'traditional' means something a little different on this ship than at home. Besides the fruit compote (and the Captain has already asked me to make sure it doesn't get quite so fermented this year), dusky tubers and trove bars, we have also prepared a vat of plomeek soup, two pans of hasperat, five dozen Bolian wheat cookies and six apple pies. Samantha and Naomi Wildman have promised to bring a Ktarian pudding and Lt. Paris volunteered to bring something called 'bloodwine confit,' which he swears is a Klingon side dish at festive occasions. I'd feel better about it if Lt. Torres had been the one who offered it."

Pause recording.

Could Valexa still be alive? Her baby sister would be only twelve years old. Sarexa wondered if she was possibly in a maturation chamber. Valexa had been so bright, so full of energy, surely, she thought, she must still be alive...unless...Unless her cube has been destroyed or the assimilation process failed or the virus destroyed her or the Queen sent her on a hopeless task.

There was no way to know. And somehow, it was more comforting to think of her as alive, even if she were a drone. That way she could still hope for Valexa's liberation.

Record again. Tonight was the Recitation. I don't know how they have done it before, but they tell me this year was different. When we entered the holodeck, it looked like one of the more expensive resorts on Talax, the kind that were always in the newsvids. All the tables and chairs had been pushed aside leaving a large open space. A small wooden table with the Prixin candelabra stood alone in the center. The anchor Family candle was still glowing and only slightly smaller than it was the day before.

Just about everyone arrived on time, but Neelix wouldn't begin until Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay arrived. 'We have to wait,' he whispered to me. 'We need the Captain here.'

The two of them arrived only a few minutes after the appointed time. I don't know Captain Janeway well yet, but I thought she looked tense. Well, the Recitation can be difficult for people; I know I was fairly keyed up about it.

As soon as he saw them, Neelix called out above the buzz of conversation. 'All right, everyone. The Captain has arrived. We can begin now. I want everyone to make a big circle.'

A lot of eyes rolled at that, looking from one to another in surprise, but no one protested. We collected in what was more or less a circle; probably more of a wavy oval because of the shape of the room. If we had been a circle, I realized that the Captain, Tom and B'Elanna, the Commander and I would have been the compass points: I at south, the Captain at east, Tom and B'Elanna opposite me at the north point, and Chakotay at due west.

Then Lt. Ayala stepped to the center and waited for quiet. This year, Neelix asked him to act as the Honorary Elder; until recently, he thought his entire family was dead but he found out a few months ago that his son is alive after all. That is worth celebrating, indeed.

He's usually nervous when he has to speak in public, so I was surprised that he seemed so comfortable in the role of Elder. When the room was still, he began the invocation: 'In the arms of family, we stand together to honor those who have departed since we last gathered here.' Then he bent, striking an old-fashioned wooden match, and lit the red candle of Remembrance.

That was when I realized that he wasn't holding a PADD. Had he memorized the names of the honored dead? We all gave our lists to Neelix last week, so he could collate them - each name is to be read only once. This was when the Elder should have begun the recitation of the names of those we had lost in the past year.

But the Lieutenant suddenly looked tense. His shoulders tightened and his jaw got that clenched looked it usually does when he's charged with speaking to a group. 'We're going to do something different,' he said. 'Sarexa tells us that in her province, the Elder didn't read a list of names.'

I hadn't talked to him at all, so this surprised me; but I had discussed this with Neelix. He is a sweet man.

The Lieutenant reached down and plucked the burning red taper from its place. 'We're going to pass this candle around. As you hold it, it's your turn to speak the name of someone to honor. If you have no one to name, or if your honoree has already been named, pass it on.'

People shifted as they stood, some dismayed, some simply surprised. I have to admit, I was close to tears. This was like the ceremonies I remembered from my childhood, ceremonies I had watched when I was too young to participate. My hand shook a little as I accepted the burning candle.

There was so much I wanted to say, so many names I could have said. But we are each allowed only one, and the one name in my heart leapt to my lips. 'I remember Norixital, my brother, who died fighting the Borg.'

I held the candle for a moment, watching the tiny flame dance in the air. The fire was almost living, and I fancied that my brother breathed on it and caused it to grow for the briefest of moments. Then I passed the candle to Neelix, who passed it silently to the person next to him.

It went on, hand to hand, until it reached Tuvok. 'I remember Ken Dalby,' he said.

That surprised me, and not only me. Everyone knew Tuvok's father had died recently, and expected to hear that name. Neelix says that Tuvok is a very private person; perhaps he was unwilling to share that much with us. I don't think it mattered. All around the circle, people nodded their approval, some with moist eyes. Commander Chakotay had the oddest expression on his face, as if he confused and grateful in equal parts. There is still much I have to learn about Humans and Vulcans.

As the candle passed, more names were spoken. It was Billy Telfer, I think, who remembered Mortimer Harren; Trish Gallagher spoke the name of George Redman; Luke Ashmore, had tears running down his cheeks but his voice didn't waver as he recalled the name of his wife, Beth. Jim Morrow recalled his grandmother, and Lora Jenkins an uncle. Then the candle came to B'Elanna. She shifted the baby to one arm to receive it and then she said quietly, 'Miral.'

For a moment I thought she meant the baby and I was confused, but then I remembered that she had named her daughter after her mother. I hadn't known her mother was dead.

Tom was next, and holding his wife's gaze, he said, 'Ramon Hernandez.' This surprised me, too, because I didn't think he remembered Mr. Hernandez - no, Commander Hernandez - at all. Then B'Elanna smiled at him, and I realized he had spoken the name for her, because she had two to remember.

The candle moved on, through Harry Kim's hands and on to others, pausing for the names Dorrance and Kiran until it reached Captain Janeway. She held it for two, maybe three seconds before speaking. 'I honor the memory of Korok,' she said, "who watches us from Sto-Vo-Kor.'

I swallowed hard.

The candle moved on its way, and more names were recited. Baytart. Mitchell. Then the candle came to the Doctor's hands. He looked at it as if questioning his right to participate, then said, 'Lynella.' He turned quickly to hand the candle to our guest, Professor Col, and I expected her to pass it on to the next person. But she held it and looked around the circle, her chin held high.

For an instant I thought she was going to tell us that we were all fools, but then she said, 'Floran,' and passed the candle on. I had no idea who Floran was or what he or she had been to the envoy, but I raised a quick prayer as the candle moved from person to person.

It quickly reached Commander Chakotay. He had the appearance of someone who would remain silent, but then he looked at the Captain and paused. Their eyes locked for two heartbeats and then he said, 'Emanni,' and the Captain smiled as he passed the candle on.

There were only a few people between him and me, and the candle finished its circuit with no more names spoken. Lt. Ayala took it from me and returned it to its place. The two candles, white and red, burned together in a silence that broken only by the rustle of clothing.

Sarexa sighed and wiped a stray tear from one eye.

It was a lovely ceremony, and I think everyone was affected by it. If the next six nights go as well, it will be the best Prixin I can remember. Tomorrow night should be interesting, but to tell the truth, I'm really looking forward to the Days of Honoring. Neelix tells me that the Fourth Night party is always a good way to tell which couples are getting together and which are about to break up. It was that way at home, I think - I remember my Aunt saying that all you have to do is watch how people stand during the ceremony; couples that are beginning or strong stand close, even touching, while couples on the path to separation stand apart and aloof. Neelix predicted that Lt. Kim and Ensign Gilmore would stand together, as if that were a secret. Anyone with sight can tell that they are in love, and why not? This crew has been together a long time and it seems natural that people would pair off. Actually, considering how long they've been away from home, I'm a little surprised there aren't more married couples.

Neelix also told me that I should keep my eyes on Jenny Delaney and Hugh Murphy - they're going to separate soon, he said. I don't understand that. They seem very affectionate together. And, he said to watch Angelo Tessoni and Tal Celes, because they are getting serious but I don't know why he says that. It's true, they spend a lot of time together, but they almost never touch and sometimes Celes cannot even look Angelo in the eye.

So I asked him about Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay, and he looked shocked. He never likes it when I ask about them. If I didn't know better, I might think he had a secret affection for her. He says that it's unthinkable, that the Captain would never get involved with a fellow officer, but it's as plain on the whiskers on his face that those two belong together.

There are things about Humans I will never understand. I think I prefer the Talaxian way. If you like someone, you show it. If you love someone, you tell them. It makes life much simpler.

Pause recording.

Was she right about that? Neelix was very affectionate with her, in a very brotherly way. He made no attempt to hide his friendship for her, but was it possible he had picked up Human habits? And what about her? She loved Neelix like a father, or a brother. That was all. Wasn't it? It there were other Talaxians around, perhaps it would be easier to tell. Being the only two on the ship - the only two in thousands of light years - it was harder to decide. She didn't want to think she was in love with Neelix just because he was close at hand.

One thing about the Collective, she had never had to waste time trying to analyze her feelings. It was hard to be an individual again. It was hard to find a way to belong without being a single mind. It was hard to know how to define shades of emotions. She shook her head.

Resume recording. I may not know what happened to my blood relatives, but Neelix is my family now, and for that I am grateful. I need to close this and return to the mess hall. We still have to finish the casseroles for tomorrow and begin the decorating. There's so much to do!

End recording.

Late Evening - Day 2:

"That was a nice piece of music you played with Sue Nicoletti tonight," Noah said as a subdued crew filed into the corridors at the close of the first Day of Remembrance observance. "It sounded familiar. What was it?"

"It was a transcription of an early 20th century choral piece. 'In Paradisium' from the Faure Requiem."

"It was lovely, Harry," Marla agreed, giving his arm a little squeeze.

"Thanks. I've always loved the melody, and I thought it would sound even more mellow on the clarinet. Sue and I enjoyed putting it together."

"You did it yourselves?" Tal Celes asked.

"Yes, we did."

"It fit with the Recitation perfectly," Tabor said. Other members of the crew who were nearby agreed, many also complimenting Harry for his part in the musical presentation, before everyone began to drift off to their quarters. Harry wasn't surprised. The second night of Prixin was always the most solemn of all, especially when the names of those lost during the year were read. The change to having the crew offer the names up themselves, instead of having the Elder read them, was especially moving, he thought.

He accompanied Marla down the corridor, not paying much attention to those around him, since he was concentrating on how beautiful his partner's hair was, sparkling even in the dim light of their surroundings. When he reached Marla's quarters he realized that the only ones still with them were the other four Equinox survivors. Contrary to his expectations, they did not move onward when Harry and Marla stopped in front of her door. For a few awkward seconds, everyone looked around at everyone else without saying anything, while Harry devoutly wished they'd leave so that he and Marla could step inside by themselves. Finally, Noah Lessing said, "Harry, would you like to come in with us?"

Nonplussed that Noah would think Harry would be the one to leave, Harry asked, "Are you having a nightcap or something?"

The others all chuckled softly. Jimmy Morrow finally explained, "We're going to hold our own Prixin Recitation tonight, Harry. We didn't understand what Prixin was all about last year. This year, we intend to make up for lost time."

Harry looked at Marla. From her expression, she seemed to want him to stay. After nodding slightly, he followed the Equinox Five into Marla's quarters.

A tiny red candle, much smaller than the one the Captain had lit at the main ceremony, sat on the table, awaiting the touch of a match to come alive.

Personal log-Lieutenant Harry Kim-Stardate 54998

Prixin always gets to me, but tonight was special. Not just because Marla was with me (although that was part of it, I guess), but because I understood more tonight, from the ceremony after the ceremony, about what the Recitation can do for you. It provides a way to finally say good-bye, to deal with loss and to accept that while some are left behind, others go on.

Noah acted as elder and read all the names as the survivors of the Equinox had their own Recitation. It was more like the way we always handled things before, not the way we did it this year - but that seemed right, somehow. All of the people whose names he read had died years before this last one-most of them, right after the Equinox was pulled into the Delta Quadrant, right around the time we were on Voyager. The Equinox was such a small ship already. Losing half of its crew within days of coming here was such an unbelievable loss in itself. And then they encountered those aliens who killed the rest, other than our Equinox Five who survived because Captain Ransom sent them here when he sacrificed himself.

Listening to Noah reading the names tonight and listening while the five of them swapped stories about their lost comrades made me understand what the crew of the Equinox really went through, before and after they met up with us. I understand a little better why Marla keeps saying we should just 'live in the moment' and not worry about the future. Living in the present and trying to get through each day one at a time was the only way they made it through.

I'm not saying I can ever truly forgive Ransom for all he did. When he convinced Marla and Noah to go along with stealing the shield we'd developed to protect Voyager and the Equinox from those aliens, he almost sacrificed all of us for the handful of his crew that were left. Some of Voyager's crew were killed because of him. But if Captain Janeway had ordered me to do things I considered unethical, I'm not sure I wouldn't have followed her orders, given the same set of circumstances. I'd like to think I'd have refused, but I honestly don't know if I would have.

So, I understand a lot better why Marla and Noah and the others could have remained loyal to Ransom. They still feel he was a wonderful commander until the Delta Quadrant stole his soul from him. Maybe they're right, but I'm glad I serve under Captain Janeway. Maybe she did a few things that weren't quite up to strict Prime Directive standards, but nothing we did compares to what happened on the Equinox under Ransom.

I understand another thing, though. We're all going to have to stand by Marla and the others when we get home, to make Starfleet realize what it was like being out here in the Delta Quadrant, so far away from home, with most of the alien races indifferent at best and hostile at worst towards us. The five from the Equinox did the best they could, following orders and maintaining discipline the only way they knew to survive-through the chain of command. Certainly, they'll see that, and let them stay in Starfleet.

But if we can't, then I'll leave Starfleet and stay with Marla. After all the times I lost out on love, I'm not going to lose Marla now that I've finally found her. I won't let it happen. I love her too much.

I hope it won't come to that, though. I'll do my best to see that it doesn't.

End log.

Prixin: Day Three

B'Elanna sighed and slipped a little deeper into the water, relishing the warmth as well as the scent and silky feel of the bath oil. A larger bathroom with a built-in bathtub was one of the perks of the new quarters she and Tom had moved into shortly after they'd married-quarters that had formerly been one of the four "ambassador suites" on Voyager. She'd taken advantage of this bathtub often, especially as her pregnancy had progressed. She'd sorely missed it during the two weeks they'd lived in the hastily raised New Hope shelter. Even after Miral's birth, she found she still eagerly anticipated this relaxation after a long day.

B'Elanna sighed contentedly again, and rubbed her belly. It was still slightly rounded, but she was quickly regaining her former shape. Every once in a while she felt a odd pang for the lost feel of her baby inside her, even if Miral's active nature had kept her awake nights toward the end. But she loved holding her daughter in her arms even more, so the tradeoff was definitely worth it.

B'Elanna smiled, then glanced at the dataPADD resting on the small table next to the tub. She stretched out an arm and pressed the record symbol with one wet finger.

Personal Log, B'Elanna Torres reporting, Stardate 54500...

Today was my first full day back in Engineering. The doctor thought it was too soon, but he agreed as long as I remain on light duty for another week. I need to participate in the repair work on Voyager, especially when there's still so much to be done, and I want to keep closer tabs on Joe's progress with the slipstream technology. With a little tinkering, I think it's going to work this time.

Tom was all for me going back too, and not just because I threw all Miral's stuffed animals at him yesterday. Maybe I was being a little cranky, but he didn't have to say so. While Voyager remains grounded, the captain told us to make our own schedules to accommodate our responsibilities as new parents. That was nice of her, but I know Tom feels like I do. We both want to do our full part to get Voyager under way again. At the same time we don't want to leave Miral with
others while we're both working, not when she's so young. It will be soon enough to work out a more permanent schedule once Voyager is space-bound again, and there are plenty of people who are eager to babysit-Naomi, Marla, Harry, Chakotay... The list is endless, so that won't be a problem. The doctor has already insisted that he'll take Miral whenever
Voyager faces any potential danger. Since Sickbay is the safest place on the ship, Tom and I readily agreed with him. But for now, one of us will always be with her.

I really was glad to be back in Engineering today. It felt right to be there, but I missed Miral. It's the first time since she was born that I've spent more than a few minutes away from her. Even though I knew she was here with Tom, I couldn't keep my mind from returning to her every few minutes, wondering how she was doing. By the time I came back here for lunch I was aching to hold her again.

Imagine me, not able to keep my concentration on my engines! In fact, today made me realize again how much my life has changed-how much I've changed. For so long engineering was my only real passion. I lived and breathed it, and couldn't imagine making enough space in my life for anything or anyone else. Then Tom came along and wormed his way into my life, and now we have Miral. I found out that my life-my heart-stretched easily to accommodate them. I still love engineering, but it's not the only important thing in my life. It's not even the most important thing anymore.

That's what this week's Prixin celebration is about-family. Tonight is the second night of Remembrance. It will start with a communal dinner-Neelix's traditional Talaxian game stew and tubers, which is actually not bad-and then we'll share stories and memories of the deceased members of our families. Last night was the Recitation, when we passed around the lit candle and named those we've lost during the
past year. When the candle was passed to me, I said my mother's name with a small ache in my heart.

Last night was a somber occasion, but tonight we'll recall the good times. It will be a celebration of the lives and deeds of those who've been part of our lives-and part of our family. I have stories to share about Beth Ashmore, and Mortimer Harren. I also have one about Ramon Hernandez. Even though he almost took Tom away from me, the sacrifice he made for Voyager in an effort to atone for his mistakes did restore his honor, to me anyway.

I have good memories of my mother too. For a long time the bitterness and anger between us was so foremost in my mind that I forgot there were a lot of good moments too-like how she used to tuck me in bed when I was little and call me 'tIqoywI'-her 'little heart'-as she kissed me goodnight. And how she surprised me with a trip to Cavasi Ridge to see the double eclipse of Kessik's suns. How she held me after I nearly drowned in the Sea of Galan and told me she wouldn't let anything hurt me. How proud she was of me when I earned the top engineering scholarship in secondary school...

There are more. Maybe it's holding my own daughter that has made many of them come back to me. I don't know if I'll share any of them tonight. Tom thinks I should but I've never been very comfortable sharing private things.

Even though the datastream doesn't open for six more days, I already wrote Elizabeth a letter about Miral's birth. I'm sure she'll share the news with my father. I still don't know if I'll answer the letter he sent me last month, or what I'll say if I do, but next week he'll know he has a granddaughter.

I wrote another letter too-to my mother. It still sounds strange to say it out loud. Once I would have scoffed openly at the idea. Now I find it easier to believe in things that have to be taken on faith, like love, and the spiritual realm. I asked my uncle to read the letter at our family shrine in the Hall of Honor. Maybe my mother really will hear my words in StoVoKor.

I wanted to tell her how I felt when I first held my daughter- complete awe that I had produced something so miraculous, and a rush of love that welled up in me with such force that it hurt. The moment I looked at her I knew I would protect her with my life, and do whatever it took to make sure she grew up strong and happy. I wondered if my mother felt the same way the first time she held me, and I knew she had. The truth flashed in front of me at that moment.

My mother loved me. That shouldn't be a revelation, but it took me this long to really understand. She wanted exactly the same things for me that I want for my daughter. Even when she made mistakes, and when she pushed too hard, she was only doing what she thought was best for me. I know I'll do my best for my daughter too, even if she's angry, or rebellious, or ungrateful-which, considering her genes, seems likely. I may not always do the right thing-I'm sure I won't-but it will always come from my love, and I know that she too will understand some day.

In my letter to my mother I also thanked her for wanting so much for me, and for everything she tried to do for me. And for loving me. I never thanked her for that, not once. I wish I had. Now I know it was she who gave me the strength and determination that has helped me survive, and that has gotten me here, even if it was a rough road.

I've had moments of satisfaction-even joy-in my life, but I haven't often been happy, not really. Not like I am now, with this deep, abiding contentment with my life, and this sense that I'm okay the way I am, Klingon and human, faults and all. I feel like I've finally made it to exactly where and who I should be. Who I think my mother would have wanted me to be.

The Klingon tradition of naming a child after an ancestor is not just in honor, but in hopes that the child will inherit the qualities of the ancestor. I told my mother that's why I named my daughter Miral. I hope that my daughter will inherit my mother's strength and courage, and her ability to love so fiercely. Nothing would make me happier.

I think mother will hear my words in StoVoKor. I really do. Then she'll know I did what she entreated me not long ago. I chose to live.

End log.

Personal log, Commander Tuvok, Stardate 54501

With the conclusion of tonight's events, the Days of Remembrance are now over. I am aware that some people were surprised by my choice of Ken Dalby for the Remembering, instead of my father. I believe I have 'rectified' this omission, if indeed it was one, by my actions tonight.

Death is not a tragedy, when the life that has been lived reaches its full measure of days, and has been lived well besides. That was the case with Sunak. I shall forever treasure the memory of his gentle patience, and the many things that he taught me throughout my childhood, and beyond.

However, Ken Dalby was a young man, with so many years still ahead of him, even with the brief-by Vulcan standards-lifespan of Humans. Unfortunately, circumstances dictated otherwise. As it may for all of us, out here in the Delta Quadrant. Yet even if Voyager had not been carried 70,000 light years away, there is no guarantee that others might not have met untimely deaths as well.

Mr. Dalby, despite starting his tenure aboard Voyager as the "Angry Maquis", had a certain quality of loyalty and commitment, and never hesitated to offer a hand in friendship. Not even to someone he had previously-and with good reason from his perspective-disliked. I was aware Mr. Dalby's feelings toward me at the beginning of our journey for what I represented-Starfleet rules and regulations-were compounded by the knowledge that I had been a spy. Many if not most of the Maquis shared those sentiments, once the truth was revealed. I do not assign blame for this -I would have betrayed them to the Federation, if only the Caretaker had not intervened. To Mr. Dalby's credit however, he was eventually able to put aside his feelings and serve with distinction.

I will admit that he tried my patience in so many ways; there were times I doubted he would ever fit the Starfleet mold, even after completing my remedial training course. But after all these years on Voyager, Mr. Dalby was finally starting to come into his own; he had the makings of a good security officer, and I am confident that given time, he would have been an exemplary one.

I do not feel guilt that Mr. Dalby is dead-guilt is a human emotion that I am fortunately immune to. However, I do admit to a certain regret that things could not have been otherwise.

I have on more than one occasion spoken to the captain about the illogic of bearing more than one's share of responsibility, of taking on blame for things that have occurred during our journey. That no one individual, Human or Vulcan, can control all events. And yet...I understand why there are times she feels this way.

And so I choose to remember the finer things about Mr. Dalby's life on these days of Prixin. To acknowledge the loss, but at the same time not to dwell on his death to the exclusion of his life. My people have a ritual lament-or perhaps it can be interpreted as a message of comfort-when informed of a death in the family. "I grieve with thee." On these nights of Prixin, the grief and the memory are truly communal.

After I completed my story this evening, Mr. Neelix said he hopes I soon see my grandchildren. I am a Vulcan, however, and I have been taught since birth to control my emotions. As a result, there is no guilt, no fear-but neither do I have the capacity for hope.

The Days of Remembrance are over, we begin the Days of Honoring in about half an hour. In a way, I'm sorry; the Days of Remembrance during Prixin have always conjured up memories of my tribe's traditional Day of the Dead celebration. Over the centuries we've managed to absorb traditions from the Aztec, Mayan, and Catholic cultures, so that my father's ritual was no less an adaptation than Neelix's version of Prixin for us. In the past, I have found the Honoring ceremony to be solemn and respectful but not cathartic, not like the Dia de Los Muertos at home. Until this year. This year, I could all but smell the cempazuchil flowers and copal incense and feel the souls pressing around us.

Neelix changed things a little this year. I wonder if Sarexa influenced that or if he just realized that this year was different for us. The Honoring ceremony was more participative and the whole experience was more immediate and personal than ever before. A lot of people left the first Day of Remembrance in tears, but they came back to the second day all the more relaxed because of it. Last night's dinner was more like an Irish wake, with a lot of good stories and laughter, and I think everyone enjoyed themselves. It felt like our Dia de los Muertos celebration.

Perhaps that was why I was thinking of Micteacacihuatl, the Aztec goddess who in ancient times was the sponsor of the Day of the Dead. She is the Protector of the souls on their journey from the underworld to this one. My people don't worship the old gods but we learn about them, and as a child, I imagined Micteacacihuatl to be a source of strength, a warrior queen who could fend off demons and yet provide comfort that flowed from a loving heart.

I was thinking this last night when I noticed Kathryn giving Luke Ashmore a hug: Luke, his heart still broken from losing his wife to the Borg, and Kathryn, the warrior who led that fight, giving him comfort. It crystallized for me at that moment: to the crew, Kathryn is Micteacacihuatl, their protector, and she knows it. She knows it and she will allow nothing to distract her from that role, especially not her own feelings.

I watched her the last two nights as she stood among them, smiling here, touching an arm there, even holding Mariah Henley as she cried for Ken Dalby. She was a perfect blend of compassion and fortitude and no one ever saw how hard it was for her. If I didn't know her as well as I do, I wouldn't have seen it. The signs are subtle, but there - a certain look in here eyes, a tenseness in her neck and shoulders. She's grieving for every crew member who died this year, and for Korok and Lynella and even Hernandez. But she knows what the crew expects from her - needs from her - and she won't let them down. "It's that simple. She won't let them down. She'll just keep her own feelings tamped down so she can be strong for them.

I hoped she would ask me in for coffee after one of the ceremonies and unburden herself. It would have done us both good to acknowledge and share the pain and yes, the responsibility, we both feel for the events of the past year. But she didn't ask, and I didn't push it. I promised her that I would wait until she was ready, and I will.

His next words tumbled out quickly, without thought.

Gods, but I miss her. I miss seeing her come out of the shower in the morning, damp and smiling. I miss the way she'd press her icy toes against my legs to warm them. I miss waking up in the night and listening to her breathe. I miss being able to talk to her about anything, no matter how personal or deeply felt. I think she misses me, too, but it has to be her decision to change things. If circumstances were different, if we were back the Alpha Quadrant, I might try to force the issue, but not here and now. There's too much at stake.

He paused and regrouped. He had intended to make a point, not rehash the same old arguments.

That doesn't mean I won't worry about her. I'm already worried about tonight's party. It's supposed to be a joyful commemoration of Today, the present, and she's not particularly happy about our current state. The ship is grounded, repairs are taking longer than we hoped and it's likely to be weeks before we can resume our journey. Knowing Kathryn, that's bothering her nearly as much as the lost crewmen.

At least she's agreed to let me escort her tonight, although I don't have any illusions about what will happen. She will be gracious and cordial, but no more so than she will be with anyone else. We'll partner in at least one of the group dances, perhaps two. The group dances are safe enough. She won't join any of the couples dances. If things become too rowdy, like last year, I can get us out discreetly. If nothing else, I can honestly say that I wanted a private moment to give her a Prixin gift.

"The gift." He hefted the box a little, remembering its contents. "I found this set months ago, and bought it only because I thought it was pretty and would flatter her. Now, I wonder if my subconscious was at work. The necklace and earrings are each a strand of flowers, delicate enamel petals hand-painted in blazing yellow with red edge. Marigolds. Cempazuchil flowers, symbols of Micteacacihuatl, who uses their spicy scent as she guides the spirits in her care.

"I wonder if she will accept it. If she feels that it is too intimate a present, she may be uncomfortable with it. We're still trying to find our footing on the path back to simple friendship. I'll have to remind her that I've given her jewelry before. I'm certainly not going to tell her the symbolism of the cempazuchili." He smiled. "Somehow I don't think she'd be flattered by a comparison to an ancient goddess of death."

He looked at the chronometer again and saw that it was time to leave. Kathryn should be ready by now.

"End entry." Still holding the gift box, he left his quarters.

Personal Log: Icheb, Cadet Star Fleet Academy, Stardate 55007

I have enjoyed Prixin this year. In past years I have been...uncomfortable during the celebrations, but this year I am not. When I told Naomi how I am feeling, she said it is because I am learning to have fun. Perhaps she is correct. Certainly last night would fall into the category of fun. Lieutenant Kim was in charge of the evening. He and his musicians greeted everyone as they arrived with a musical salute. I remember Lieutenant Paris' was "Fly me to the Moon" and Neelix' was "A Taste of Honey". Mine was "Climb Every Mountain". Lieutenant Kim explained them all when he began the evening ceremonies.

I sat with Naomi and her mother, and with Lieutenant Paris - I mean Tom- he has asked me to call him Tom - and Lieutenant Torres - B'Elanna - and Miral. The infant attracted much attention and Lieut...Tom is very proud of her. I believe she is considered quite beautiful, although I'm not sure why at this point. She is very small and can be quite odiferous at times. She can also produce sounds that are in volume no way related to her size. However Naomi has informed me that she is a superb specimen and that she will no doubt 'grow on me'.

We all gathered around Neelix' buffet as the Captain lit the blue Candle of Gratitude. As she lit it, she asked us to think of members of our Voyager family who have touched us this year. Of course I thought immediately of Naomi. But I also thought of Tom Paris and his family. They have shown me so much kindness and attention and I am grateful for it.

The music started playing before we had finished our meal. Lieutenant Kim called on members of the senior staff to begin the dancing. Although the captain protested that she hadn't danced in a long time, Commander Chakotay stood in front of her chair and told her he wouldn't move until she complied and asked her "what about the swan". She said that didn't count but he said that since she had gotten him to sing on the first night, she owed him. The rest of the crew began to applaud and finally the captain stood up, bowed to the room and said "uncle", which Ensign Wildman explained to me meant that she would dance with him. Lieutenant Kim and his musicians started to play some very unusual music, very quickly. Tom told me it is called "The Beer Barrel Polka". The Captain started to laugh and took a long drink from her goblet, which B'Elanna said she thought contained real Antarian cider. I did not say anything, of course, but I know it's entirely possible she was right.

Almost everyone danced. Lieutenant Tuvok could not be convinced to try, although even the Captain attempted to persuade him. I offered to hold Miral while Lieut...Tom and B'Elanna joined in, but they declined my offer and showed me how the baby's carrier could be adapted to allow them to participate. Naomi insisted I accompany her onto the dance floor, and I did. I must admit that at first I was nervous, but in the end I found the dancing to be most enjoyable. I noticed quickly that there are no set rules to this sort of communal dancing - everyone seems to move to their own rhythm with their own style. It was almost exhilarating. I danced with Naomi, with B'Elanna and with Ensign Gilmore.

There were many gifts exchanged tonight, but Lieutenant Kim's was the most unusual, I think. His gift to Ensign Gilmore was a hard sided helmet and a song that he and his musical ensemble played at the end of the evening. He explained that he had written it especially for her; that he was going to pipe it through the communications system each time she was assigned to an away team; and that he hoped each time she heard it she would remember to wear her 'away mission gear'.

My gift to Naomi was a replicated copy of a novel from the 19th century, called "Little Men". She seemed to be very pleased with my selection. I know that she has read another volume by the same author several times. Naomi gave me a shell that she collected on the shores of the Narcan Vol Ocean. She and her mother visited there several years ago, and I know that trip was very special to both of them. When I unwrapped the gift, Ensign Wildman explained to me that expedition was the first time Naomi had ever been off of Voyager. I will treasure it.

End log.

Captain's personal log Stardate 55008.9.

We have now moved well past the midpoint of the Prixin holiday. I've always admired the subtle shift from focusing on the past to the present and then onward to the future. Secure in the knowledge of being in the arms of 'family', wrapped up in the comfort of their love, everyone is looking forward with joy, knowing that tomorrow will only bring better than today. This spirit of optimism is one of the things I admire most about this celebration Neelix has introduced us to, perhaps because there are times I find it sorely lacking in myself.

But a captain isn't supposed to feel that way. I'm supposed to be looking bravely ahead, reminding myself and my crew how truly lucky we are. It's my job to reassure them that our future is indeed bright. We may not get home as quickly as we had originally anticipated, but even without transwarp, it's not going to take us more than another decade. Barring major disaster, that is. And even I don't dwell on that possibility for more than a few moments in the deepest part of the night.

Somehow, more than any other year, Prixin and its meaning are weighing heavily on my mind. Perhaps because this is the first time we've been planetbound for such an extended period. It was late summer when we landed on New Hope; now the crisp days of fall are rapidly taking on the chill of winter. It's been so long since I spent enough time on a planet to actually be affected by the seasonal swings. Although there was a point early in the journey when I did spend a few months planet-side, living a life wholly separate from Voyager-when Chakotay and I were together on New Earth. We thought it was going to be for the rest of our lives. But of course, it wasn't. No more than those weeks on Gunrath'u were...

I've spent more than half my life on board starships, have gotten used to artificial light and re-circulated air as the norm. Fresh air, cool breezes...that's what you get while you're on leave. Natural sunshine is a luxury, and frankly, with my complexion and tendency to burn, not one I ever felt much in need of. Or so I thought.

Earlier today, toward late afternoon, I was seized with the sudden desire to go outside the ship, get a breath of air. After a word to Tuvok, I grabbed my heavier jacket-once the sun begins to go down the temperature drops pretty rapidly-and slipped out the hatch. I walked a few paces away from the ship, till I was out from under its shadow. I leaned my head back and felt the warmth of the sun on my face.

It's a common fallacy among 'Grounders'-humans who've never been out of Earth's own solar system-that a Class M designation for a planet is the same as saying it's 'Earth-like.' What the term really means is there is an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and the median temperature range falls between minus 50 and plus 60. There are no guarantees that the flora and fauna will be anything that remotely resembles the Terran varieties. In my time I have been on many alien worlds, some more or less like the planet of my birth, others vastly different. But only once before in the Delta Quadrant have I stood on the surface of a world that felt so strongly like home...

The New Hope sky was a delicate apple-green, with just a few wisps of clouds. I headed off toward the nearby copse of trees, no real destination in mind, other than to stretch my legs for a bit. The tall trunks loomed overhead, the deep whorls on the bark of the *alon* trees looking like runes carved in a mysterious alien tongue. A bird sang out overhead, and within a few seconds it flashed into view, its mauve feathers touched with gold where the light hit. It alit on a nearby branch, using its prehensile tail as well as its tri-clawed feet. It gave me an almost amused glance before breaking into another song. These *tziporim*, as the Vordai call them, remind me a little of the Terran mockingbirds, but have a broader range and an even more impressive repertoire. I listened as the music came to a halt, and then suddenly the creature rose into the air once more.

I rushed after it, into the heart of the forest. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, yet was vaguely aware I was moving farther away from Voyager. An occasional flash of purple and rose, once a silky feather floating gently down on the mossy trail, were my only indications that I was following in the right direction. And then with a burst of song more beautiful than any I'd yet heard, just when I was sure I'd finally found it, the bird seemed to vanish completely.

I dropped to my knees, suddenly weary. Without quite understanding why, I was overcome with a sense of overwhelming loss, and sadness. I took a deep breath. It was just the stress of the repair efforts, I told myself. And the memories evoked by the Days of Remembrance, and of the Honoring. Remembering those of my crew I'd lost, who'd died because I couldn't save them. And at that my resolve broke, and I threw myself down and cried.

I don't know how long I lay there among the fallen leaves. After a while the tears began to slow, and I felt a curious sense of relief. Maybe I'd just needed the release, had kept these emotions bottled up inside me for too long. I started to rise, and then I noticed something off to the side of the path, which I hadn't been aware of before. I moved a bit closer. It was a slender tree, its stature smaller, its color lighter, than any of those around it. And at its base there was a cluster of flowers.

Their petals were a blazing yellow, with an edging of red. I'd seen them somewhere before-the aeroponics bay perhaps?-and then it hit me. They were marigolds. The same flowers as in the jewelry Chakotay gave me two nights ago, before the dance.

It sounds strange to say these words even to myself, but at that moment, I had a sudden epiphany. That instead of spending the rest of my life regretting the past and worrying about the future, of dwelling on everything I'd lost-it was time I started learning to enjoy the present, to appreciate what I have now. And I do have so very much, perhaps much more than I deserve-something so precious I can no longer afford to keep pushing it away. To keep pushing him away.

For seven long years, I've been acting as though I could show the breadth of my commitment to my crew and ship by the depth of my own unhappiness. So wrong, and so unnecessary. It's time for a change.

End log.

Janeway took one last look at herself in the mirror. At the blue tunic and leggings, the only ornament the silvery combadge. She frowned, and then picked up the soft pouch that lay on her dresser. She opened it and gently shook out its contents into her hand, admiring the vibrant colors and exquisite workmanship of the jewelry once more.

She carefully fastened the clasp of the necklace and slipped on the earrings. Picking up her hairbrush, she smoothed her hair back and off her face, working the shoulder length strands into a soft knot caught at the nape of her neck. She smiled as the dancing earrings, now fully visible, caught the light. Tonight marked the beginning of the Days of Anticipation. She had some anticipating of her own for the evening-the look on Chakotay's face when she told him that the seed they'd planted in their Lotos Days had indeed come to fruition.

Personal Log: Noah Lessing, 6th Day of Prixin, Stardate: 55010

It's hard to believe the difference between this Prixin and last year. Last year, they started talking about Prixin like we should know what it was, and of course we had no idea. We'd been on the ship about five months but we still were on the fringe of things. I remember standing between Marla and Jim during the Convocation ceremony and feeling like a Vulcan at a Christmas dance, wondering what all the fuss was and not knowing the proper steps. It didn't help that the crew wasn't exactly ready to welcome the five of us from the Equinox into the family fold. And if the Convocation was awkward, it was nothing compared to the Days of Remembrance. The recitation of the eleven who died because of us was almost unbearable. We didn't show up for the next three nights.

Joe Carey talked me into going to the Sixth Day celebration though. 'It's about the kids,' he told me, and I went even though I was uncertain of my reception. The atmosphere that night was different, though. It was a smaller crowd, mostly those who had children back in the Alpha Quadrant, and they were relaxed and happy. There's nothing quite like a lot of parents, sitting around to swap baby stories.

When it was my turn, I told them about Hannah. I told them the mailbox story, from when she was not quite three years old. 'My wife Virginia loves antiques,' I said, "and she found an old wooden mailbox at a flea market some place. Do you know what a mail box is? It stands on a post about three feet high and has a small door in the front, where paper letters were delivered. It was Ginny's pride and joy. She painted flowers on the thing and had me dig a post hole at the end of the driveway so it could sit just where it would have two centuries ago, when mail was delivered by hand. I guess that post hole wasn't as good as I thought, though, because one day I was mowing the lawn and bumped up against that mailbox with the mower, and it just toppled over and smashed into pieces when it hit the pavement. Turns out Hannah was watching the whole thing from the window. 'Daddy went vroom,' she told Ginny, 'and the mailbox went crack. It was a sad day for the mailbox.'"

Everyone laughed. I passed around a picture of my girl, and looked at everyone else's pictures. We hadn't received any mail from home yet so everyone's pictures were old. We all tried to imagine how the children had changed. It was the first time I felt that, perhaps, I could fit in on this ship, some day.

I thought about not going tonight, but I had a new picture of Hannah to show everyone. She's ten years old now, and so grown up. Looks a lot like Ginny. I passed it around and looked at all the others. I told them that Hannah has a new name now and is living with her mother and her new father on Luna Colony. I didn't tell them that I am grateful for that, because if we make it home she won't have to explain to her friends and schoolmates why her daddy is probably going to prison.

So I had a good time tonight. Mike Ayala had a picture of his son, and if ever a man was about to burst with pride, it was him. There was a picture of him with Joe Carey's boys, playing soccer together. Commander Tuvok had pictures of his grandchildren. It's hard to think of him as a grandfather. You'd think that talking about our kids when we're so far from them would make us sad, but somehow sharing these stories and pictures makes them seem closer.

And Hannah will always be my little girl. My connection to the future. No matter what else happens, that's something I'll always celebrate.

Day 7

Jenny Delaney was in a hurry. She had requested and pulled double shifts so that she would have extra off-duty time during Prixin. She'd spent the morning working on several complicated algorithms, which she had finally solved much to her satisfaction, and had rewarded herself with a lunch break down by the river, reveling in the New Hope sunshine. And now she was late getting back to work. She clambered up the steep bank, and decided to take a shortcut through a small stand of trees that flanked the riverbed. She'd been through this way before, and knew that others had used the same route for the same reason. She made her way cautiously through the vegetation, being careful not to get caught on the bramble-filled vines that clustered and twisted in and out of the roots of the trees. She was congratulating herself on her success when a slight miss-step caused an even slighter loss of balance. Unfortunately it was enough. She was caught, and there was nothing to do but settle herself carefully down on the ground and work herself out of the tangle.

The vegetation wasn't thick and from her vantage point she could see beyond the trees to a secluded glade just on the other side of the wood. She wasn't unfamiliar with the area - she and several of Voyager's crew had found it to be an ideal spot for a bit of solitude, quiet conversation, or even a romantic interlude.

The clearing was occupied, which wasn't unusual. But what caught Jenny's eye was the cranberry and black of the occupants' uniforms. She leaned forward to find a better view, the tangle of vines momentarily forgotten.

She couldn't make out any conversation - if indeed there was any. But it was obvious that the two people in the glade were communicating nonetheless. The pair was seated close together on a fallen log and the man, whose back was to Jenny, had his arm around the woman. She in turn, was relaxed into his right side, her head hidden by his shoulder. Jenny watched as he turned toward her and she caught a glimpse of a familiar tattoo. The woman shifted slightly to allow her companion access to her lips, and Jenny grinned.

"Well, my oh my." Jenny whispered to herself. "It's about time, you two, isn't it?" She looked down at her feet, and set about freeing herself. It didn't take long. She stood up carefully, turned, and headed back in the direction from which she had come. She figured this was one time when taking the long way was the best way to go.

Personal log-Thomas Eugene Paris-Stardate 55012.9

It's funny. All my life, I've been part of a family, but tonight was the first time I really knew what that meant-in my gut, not just in my head.

Even when I'd screwed up but good and got myself kicked out of Starfleet, my parents stuck by me, although they were bitterly disappointed in me. They couldn't be any more disappointed in me than I was myself, though. I wasn't ready to accept that yet, but they never disowned me, like a lot of people said they should. I pretty much disowned myself.

Once I found myself on Voyager, lost in the Delta Quadrant, I adopted Harry as my unofficial little brother. Eventually B'Elanna and I found each other and started on the road that led to the formation of our own little family. But despite exceptions like Seska and Michael Jonas, I already had a family in the Delta Quadrant long before B'Elanna and I came together.

With the captain as our "mom," the Voyager crew, both Maquis and Starfleet, had turned into a family out here, guarding each others' backs and making a home for us on the ship. Maybe that's why, when we encountered Seven and Icheb and the Equinox survivors, we were ready to accept them, too. We'd had lots of practice with the whole family formation process by then.

I think maybe we owe a lot of that to Neelix and to this Talaxian "Celebration of Family" he talked us into celebrating, way back when he first came on board. I think we all thought it was a bit silly at first, but I can't imagine not celebrating Prixin every year from now on, for the rest of my life. Everyone else feels the same way. It's become part of us.

Tonight, since we're planetside, we were able to have a real bonfire for the seventh night, not the fake one on the holodeck we had to have every other year. Professor Falon Col, the Grevel-Ash ambassador, was a little shocked. Her people apparently don't light fires for ceremonies like this. I think the captain and commander must have filled her in on the symbolism, though, because she seemed okay with it later on. And that was good, because tonight was special-Miral Paris, firstborn daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Thomas Eugene Paris, was formally inducted into the Voyager family.

It's strange. As special as that moment was, afterwards was when it really hit me-what it all meant.

The night air was chilly, but with that huge fire dancing up into the skies, we were pretty cozy. B'Elanna was curled up beside me, her head leaning on my shoulder, while I held Miral closely in my arms. The blanket was big and fit around the three of us, with an extra baby quilt snuggled around Miral, of course. We were content just being there together while others stood up and shared stories of their families back home in the Alpha Quadrant. While I listened to my crewmates' stories, Miral's little face was burrowed into my chest. I could feel every precious breath she took. It struck me then, with all the force of a fist to the solar plexus, that Miral was a separate person in her own right, with her own history. We will have the privilege of watching only the beginning of her story, if all goes as it should. Obvious, huh? It's not that I didn't realize it before, but this time, with her there in my arms, I really felt it. The longer I thought about it, though, the more OK it was to me. It's my job, and B'Elanna's, to get Miral started on her way, to protect her and teach her until she can stand on her own. That's what parents do. Then it's all up to her-including finding someone and having her own kids someday, if she wants. I found myself thinking of my father, and of all the fathers and grandfathers before us. Did they ever have that same moment of realization about what it meant to become the father of a new generation of the Paris family? I guess it's foolish for me to assume I'm the only one who ever felt this way. Probably they all did at one time or another. I just knew that at that moment I would do everything I could, sacrifice anything necessary, to give my child the best chance to be safe and happy. An awesome responsibility, true, but a privilege-and after all the ways I'd managed to mess up my life before Voyager, my accepting that task had to classify as a miracle.

We sat there for a long time, B'Elanna, Miral, and I, as the flames of the watika wood fire ascended into the night sky, higher and higher, until I could barely tell where sparks ended and stars began. Somehow it didn't matter.

As much as I love flying through space, if anything happened and we were truly planetbound here, I wouldn't feel like I was back in prison, as I would have only a few years ago. Now, everything I really needed to make me happy was wrapped up in my arms and leaning against my shoulder.

I've even got the little brother, although it's not Harry this time. Lieutenant Kim was sitting on the other side of the fire, all caught up in Marla Gilmore. This time, the little brother was more than simply honorary-or will be, soon.

After Samantha Wildman and Naomi left the gathering, without any announcement of the betrothal between Naomi and Icheb that a lot of the crew had expected, Icheb came over to sit next to B'Elanna and me. I wasn't surprised. He'd already told me of their decision not to go any further in their relationship while they were still so young. I know Sam must be relieved. He's a pretty wise kid in a lot of ways, smart enough to know he isn't ready for that sort of commitment yet, and that Naomi isn't either, no matter what she thinks. I'm glad Naomi finally realized it, too.

And even though I'd been intending to keep it hush-hush for a little while longer, I decided it was time to announce what my parents had confirmed in their last data stream message. With Icheb's consent, as well as my sisters', they've instituted legal proceedings to adopt Icheb. Everyone expressed surprise, with the notable exception of Captain Janeway. She must have had inside info from Dad.

I have a hunch Icheb's going to be able to handle the whole Paris tradition a lot better than I have. For one thing, he'll have a big brother to guide him. If he wants to know the pitfalls of being a Paris, all he has to do is check back on what I did-and just do the opposite. After what he went through with his natural parents, though, I'm sure he'll take to being a Paris just fine.

Before that happens, we have to get back to the Alpha Quadrant. There's plenty of work to do here first, but with Captain Janeway leading us, I know we'll get there sooner rather than later. But after we do, I can't imagine not celebrating Prixin any more. The folks at home will just have to learn how to celebrate it with us-and I'm sure they will.

Because it's all about family. And when you get right down to it, doesn't it always end up that way somehow? It took me a long time to figure that out, but finally, with B'Elanna's help-not to mention Miral's-I have.

End Log.

Once, the absence of need of medical services would have prompted him to deactivate, but he had long since found more motivation and purpose than that. He had Kes to thank for that, he reflected. If she had not encouraged him to expand his programming and develop other interests he would still be little more than a Mark-1 EMH with poor bedside manner - and a bleak future as a waste extraction system maintainer once Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant.

He still missed Kes. And Seven. It was odd to experience Prixin without either of them, and odder still to make them both the topic of discussion at a ceremony. He had spoken of them at the Day Five dinner when stories were told about living family members, especially those who were far away. Sometimes the stories could be sad or sentimental, but this year they had been quite lively. Although he had begun a story about Kes, it had been interrupted, enhanced and continued by Neelix and Paris and others so that in the end it was more of a round robin than a personal recollection. The same thing happened when Captain Janeway began a story about Seven, although he himself had been the first to interrupt her. Remembering, he shook his head at his own temerity. But the night had been very informal and the Captain didn't seem to mind.

As he walked into his office, he realized that he was enjoying the Prixin holidays despite the absence of his two dear friends and far more than he had expected to only a week ago. The reason for that enjoyment was clear to him. Taking his seat behind his desk, he said, "Computer. Open the personal log of the EMH."


"Log open."

He leaned back, and began recording.

There's no doubt about it. Thanks to my tact, quick thinking and, dare I add, charm, I successfully averted a major diplomatic incident this week. In fact I doubt that there are more than three officers on board who could have handled it as well. Perhaps not even that many. For now, no one is aware of this narrow escape but me; the Captain seems to be somewhat preoccupied, probably by the combination of Prixin and the ongoing repairs. There is no point in adding to that burden now. I can tell her after the holidays.

We knew the Grevel-Ash would send an observer to New Hope when they assumed orbital surveillance; all four worlds send someone to live in that little cabin of Jol's during their rotation. The request from the Secretary of Commerce to allow their observer to stay on Voyager instead of the shelter was immediately recognized for what it was: a blatant attempt to monitor us and our compliance with the agreement that allows us to stay here. The Grevel-Ash are the most suspicious of the worlds. But, as Captain Janeway noted, we can't afford to antagonize them just now. Some of their engineering equipment is more compatible with Federation technology than that from the other worlds and we need their help.

So, she sent back a message assuring them that their observer was welcome and would be afforded every hospitality of the ship. Then she asked me, rather than Neelix or one of the other officers, to take responsibility for keeping an eye on our guest while she kept an eye on us. My duties in Sickbay are fairly light at the moment and I have more time available than most of the others, so it was only logical that she should give me this assignment. Still, I was gratified that she gave it to me; she obviously has confidence in my ability to handle important diplomatic contacts.

Professor Falon Col proved to be like all the other Grevel-Ash we have encountered so far: bald, beige and blunt. She's not bad looking; in fact, her eyes are quite nice and if she would smile, she might even be p