Acknowledgments:

Many thanks to Casper and Emily, who helped me proofread and edit this latest chapter. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers - Emily K, you have gone above and beyond, in your responses, and I appreciate it!

Tradition - Chapter Six: Revelations

Hiding in a drab, gray room in the dim twilight of another world's most notorious slum wasn't a particularly glorious occupation, Tholos reflected. But then, Andorians valued duty far more than they did personal glory. They were not, after all, Klingons. He'd had to wait longer than expected for Galor and her subordinates to return with the Andorian arms that they were exchanging for the new weapons. It was fortunate that he slept so lightly, and had such sharp hearing, or his brief moments of rest might have left him unprepared, when they eventually did turn up, some three hours after he'd been expecting them. Alerted to their approach by the soft sound of footsteps in the rain - Spirits! Did it do nothing but rain in this An'Dor-forsaken place? - he darted into the shack's second room just in time, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

He could never have said afterward what alerted the Coridanite woman to his presence. It seemed unlikely that she had heard him moving, while still outside in the rain herself, and he was certain he had left the door cracked at precisely the same angle that it had been earlier in the day. Perhaps a residual current of air within the front room, stirred up by his hasty exit, had given him away? Or perhaps the head of the Halan Dor possessed that seemingly uncanny ability, so common in the warriors of his acquaintance, of sensing the presence of an enemy. Whatever the case might be, almost as soon as she entered the room, she grew still. Her subordinates, sensing her unease, likewise stilled. At a nod from their leader, they pulled their phase pistols from their side holsters. Inside the smaller rear room, looking out through the cracked door into the front chamber, Tholos likewise pulled out his phaser, his motion silent and smooth.

"I know you're there," Galor announced, voice stern and commanding. "Whoever you are, come out immediately, or I will have my men shoot you where you are."

Tholos felt his blood quickening in anticipation, as it always did before a fight, his antennae tensing up at the same time. "I have my phaser aimed at those weapons beside you, Coridanite," he called in reply from the back room. "If you fire, I shall as well, and we shall all die together in the conflagration!"

Galor considered this for a moment, clearly still inclined to press her point. Then she gestured to the four men beside her, and they lowered their phasers, holding them pointed at the floor. "Come out, off-worlder," she called out in a taunting voice, "unless you're afraid to show yourself!"

Tholos almost grinned. Keeping his phaser up, he stepped out into the larger room, confronting the five people before him. "There is nothing here on Coridan," he said with a sneer, "that an Andorian would consider worthy of fear."

The men beside Galor tensed, looking as if they would happily shoot him, but the woman herself regarded him calmly, clearly not at all intimidated by the weapon pointed in her direction. "So," she said, "now we see whom those murderers in the Rashan are doing business with."

"You don't seem to have any qualms about doing business with those murderers yourself," he shot back, gesturing at the five boxes of weapons she and her men had deposited on the floor, upon entering.

"I have a larger duty to my people to consider, Andorian," she said, her voice gruff with some emotion - anger? regret? - that he couldn't quite identify.

"So do I," Tholos replied levelly, keeping his phaser aimed at the weapons during the course of their exchange.

"What? No elevating sentiments about your mission to aid the poor, downtrodden Coridanites? No rousing speeches about how we Shengari are being crushed underfoot by those traitors in the central government, as they sell us all out to the Vulcans?"

Her voice was a whiplash of scorn, and Tholos paused. Did he know anyone, other than the ever-idealistic Commander Shran, who really believed all that bunk? Were there actually Andorians who thought that they were here on Coridan with any purpose in mind other than needling those green-blooded bastard Vulcans, and interfering with their supply of dilithium? It was policy to parrot such fine-sounding talking points, but surely no one took them seriously? The Vulcans too had their official rhetoric, he realized with a sharp sense of dismay, prosing on endlessly about the logic of non-interference in cases such as Coridan, where non-interference gained them valuable natural resources, but perfectly willing to interfere in other cases - on planets such as Mazar, or Earth itself, for that matter - when it suited their purpose. They had a lot to say, too, about observing treaties when it benefitted them, but little respect for such agreements when it didn't. One need only think of the listening station at P'Jem, to see that that was true!

When the woman before him shifted slightly, Tholos realized that he had been regarding her in silence for too long. Stung by the idea that there could be any similarity between his own people and their double-dealing adversaries, between himself and a Vulcan, he finally spoke. "Your internal affairs are of little interest to me, Coridanite, nor is your people's freedom. I am here to serve Andoria, and Andoria alone. If this world were destroyed tomorrow, it would be nothing to me. Your welfare, your survival, is your own affair."

"So," Galor said, a certain grim satisfaction in her voice. "So, a truth-telling alien at last!"

Tholos dipped his antennae briefly, his weapon still aimed steadily at the cases before him. His words may have been harsh, but there was truth in them. The ice take all these fine-sounding pretenders, busy masquerading as idealists while serving their own interest!

"Tell me one thing, then, Andorian," the Coridanite woman demanded, "since you have such a regard for the truth."

"Speak."

"The weapons we bought from the Rashan, they are Andorian?"

"Yes," he said tersely, seeing no reason to deny it.

"And was it you who sabotaged their internal power chargers, so that they would explode after being used for a certain length of time?"

Tholos hesitated, his antennae pressed back again his head. Was she saying that the weapons had been sabotaged? "We did nothing of the kind," he practically spat out, furious at the implication.

"And I should I believe you because...?," Galor responded calmly. "After all, if Coridan were destroyed tomorrow, it would mean nothing to you. What are a few dead Coridanites compared to that?"

"Try to be logical!," he sneered, realizing even as he spoke that he sounded like a Vulcan. "The purpose of arming the Rashan in the first place was to allow them to harass the central government, and to disrupt the production of dilithium. What in An'Dor's name would malfunctioning weapons accomplish?"

Galor regarded him in silence for a minute. "So you want me to believe that Toran sabotaged them?"

"You said it yourself - the Rashan are murderers. No doubt Toran thought he could get your money, while thinning your ranks at the same time."

The head of the Halan Dor regarded him steadily, her face a stern mask. "Very well. I believe you," she said at last. At a gesture from their leader, the four men beside her returned their phasers to their holsters. One by one they each hefted a case of weapons from the new cache of Orion arms and turned, leaving as silently as they had come. Galor remained standing, looking across at him. "We'll be back for the rest of the cases in an hours time. Don't be here, or we won't part so peacefully." At that, she too grabbed a case of weapons, heading out into the night without a backward glance.

Tholos lowered his phaser, which had been aimed at the weapons cache the entire time. He had an hour to transport the five cases of Andorian arms to the safe house, making sure of course, not to be followed. Fortunately for him, the rain had finally tapered off during his tense standoff with Galor and her men. If he worked double-time, and didn't encounter any Shengari wandering about in the dark, he should be able to get it done. Picking up the first case, he set out, walking south for a bit to throw any potential pursuer off, before doubling back along a narrow side alley. The mist that so commonly clouded the area during the nighttime was rising again, giving him much needed cover.

An hour and a half later, having transferred the cases in a record forty-five minutes and secured them in the safe house, Tholos was standing outside the medical clinic, considering his next move. It wouldn't be difficult to disarm the lock on the utility shed where, all being well, he would find Kelev. Of course, the humans might not appreciate his disregard for their security measures, as absurdly inadequate as they were. Just as he had decided to go ahead, his attention was drawn by a noise at the front entrance of the clinic, where the human nurse, Mr. Dowd, was coming out. Stepping out of the shadows himself, Tholos moved to intercept him.

"What is Kelev's status?," he demanded, without greeting or preamble.

The human, who had stiffened initially at his approach, flashed him a grin. "You'll need to see for yourself," he replied cheerfully, before turning toward the shed, and keying in the security code. He covered one hand with the other while typing, something Tholos found oddly reassuring. He would no more have considered settling on Vulcan to live, than he would have turned over his own security codes to a relative stranger (or a relative friend, for that matter). Of course, the nurse's precautions were amusing as well, given the ease with which he could override the lock, should he so choose. Still, one had to observe the correct security protocols, regardless of the situation, and he was glad that Mr. Dowd has some sense of the fitness of these things. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he followed the human into the small shed, and then stopped short.

Kelev lay on a makeshift bed, conscious, and looking... looking... almost well. Tholos practically gasped in surprise, before carefully schooling his face and antennae to disguise his shock and delight. His comrade's color was much improved, his face no longer the chalky white hue which heralded the onset of an Andorian's final death throes. His eyes were bright, his antennae alertly cocked, and he lay propped up, his head and upper torso kept slightly elevated by makeshift pillows. He looked up as they came into the shed, and a slight smirk played about his mouth, as his eyes met Tholos' own.

"Brother!," he exclaimed, a distinctly satirical note in his voice. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you!"

Tholos felt himself flush, an uncomfortable tension overtaking his antennae. Clearly Kelev was already aware of the blood transfusion. Was he angry that the decision to give him Dara blood had been made without his consent? Was his greeting a reproach, or perhaps even a form of mockery? It had always been difficult for him to tell just what the other male was thinking, and this present occasion was no exception. From the time of their first meeting as young Guardsmen-in-training, the Kel'Dor'At's evident amusement at situations that would have made another Andorian uncomfortable or even hostile, and his seeming indifference to Tholos' status as the grandson of Talat Dara, had made the commander feel somewhat off-kilter and unsure of himself. With that peculiar mixture of fondness and uncertainty that the Outsider always seemed to elicit in him, Tholos recalled how surprised he had been to discover, in those early days of their unlikely friendship, that the attraction he had felt was reciprocated. How unprepared he had been when Kelev, his first playmate and sexual partner, had set out to seduce him.

Delicately flicking his antennae to dispel these thoughts, Tholos cleared his throat, making that distinctive humming sound Andorians often used as a precursor to speech, when still unsure of what to say. Kelev's eyes practically sparkled, and his antennae wiggled in open amusement, leading the commander to suspect that his new blood brother was all too aware of the trajectory of his thoughts. Quelling the instinctive quiver of awareness this sent down his antennae, he turned to matters of business.

"Report," he demanded tersely, choosing to ignore for the moment both the question of Kelev's unexpected return to good health, and his new status (willing or no) as a son of the Dara. "How were you overcome, Commander?" Kelev sobered instantly, his antennae straightening themselves out, his body tensing as if attempting to come to attention, even in his recumbent position. Tholos felt a momentary pang of regret at his own harshness, before ruthlessly crushing the sensation - this was a matter of duty, not feeling.

"I arrived one month ago, Commander," the injured male began, his antennae swiveling briefly in the direction of the human nurse, as if to ascertain whether he ought to continue. It was a relief to Tholos to find that his comrade was still capable of some discretion, despite his recent incapacitation. Dipping his right antenna slightly forward, he indicated that Kelev should proceed, trusting that he would do so with caution. "I arranged a meeting immediately after stowing the cargo entrusted to me, in the usual place," he continued, managing to convey the necessary information without mentioning any specifics. "I could sense something was wrong almost from the beginning of the meeting, but by that time I was already in the compound, heavily outnumbered. I played along, although I suspected that there was some difficulty about the exchange. Our friend," here he paused, grimacing at his use of the word. Tholos felt his antennae flatten back at the thought of Toran, who, unlike Kelev's actual assailants, had yet to pay for his treachery. "Our friend also played along, pretending to agree to the exchange. When I left the compound however, I was followed."

"You were aware of their pursuit from the beginning?" Tholos asked.

"Yes. I knew that I was being followed, and was prepared for an attack from the rear. What I didn't realize was that they had split up, under cover of the mist, and that I was being driven into an ambush up ahead. By the time I understood the danger, I had already been hit by their particle weapon, and was on the ground, being beaten. I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I remember is waking up in Mareg and Lorat's home."

"There were three assailants?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Now there are none," Tholos told him, taking a certain pleasure from the appreciative way in which Kelev's antennae bent toward him, at this news. "Were your weapons taken?," he asked.

"No. My attackers must have fled the scene shortly after I lost consciousness. Perhaps they heard someone approaching. No doubt that's what saved my life."

"Where are they now?"

Here Kelev hesitated, and Tholos stiffened. It was considered a great dishonor for a Guardsman to lose his weapons. Allowances could be made for a fatally injured man, of course, but Kelev was, contrary to all expectations, no longer dying. It was an uncertain situation, he realized, not just as it concerned Kelev's level of culpability - had there ever been another case of an Andorian with so grievous a phase injury, who had subsequently recovered? - but also when it came to the question of how to proceed. Leaving aside matters of honor, there were the issues of security, and the success of their mission to consider. If Kelev's phase rifle had fallen into the wrong hands, it would land them right back where they had started, with an Andorian weapon in the possession of Coridan's insurgents. His thoughts were cut short by his injured comrade's next words.

"They're with Lorat, I believe." Kelev's uncertain tone did nothing to relieve the tension.

"You believe?" he asked, the sibilant note in his voice the only indication of his incredulous anger.

"They were definitely with me when I lay in his home, but they weren't on me when I awoke here, Commander." The male's antennae were tense and still, indicating that he was well aware that this could be a significant problem for them.

"And how likely do you think it is, that they're still safely stowed away?" he asked with a snarl, aware, even in his anger, that Kelev was hardly to blame for the situation. His thoughts racing, he considered the possibility that the Coridanite brothers had sold the weapons. Of course they had! Weren't they selling their own people's secrets to off-worlders? He'd known it was a mistake to believe, even for a minute, that these cursed aliens could be trusted! Before his thoughts could take him any further, there was a sound from the human nurse, a slight clearing of the throat. Both Andorians looked over at him.

"Actually, Kelev's weapons are here in the utility shed with us." Saying this, the male turned, reached into the storage cabinet he had been leaning against, and brought out a phase rifle. Setting it down on the temporary bed next to his patient, he turned again and, opening a drawer, brought out a knife whose solid, utilitarian handle and curved blade were unmistakable. Kelev's hrisal. "The Coridanite who brought you in came back with these a few hours after you were dropped off, and entrusted them to my care." With this, he handed the hrisal to Kelev, handle first, after the proper fashion.

Kelev reached out and grasped the hilt of his blade, which looked like a kethni heirloom to Tholos. No doubt it had been handed down in his bloodline for many generations. "Thank you, Connor," Kelev said, "I am in your debt, once again, for keeping this safe."

"Sure, and it was nothing," the human replied easily. "It was your Coridanite friend who took all the risk."

Although the nurse was looking at Kelev while he spoke, Tholos tensed, flushing uncomfortably. Perhaps he had jumped to the wrong conclusion, he admitted to himself with chagrin. Once again, it would seem, he owed a debt to Mareg and his brother. How much money, he wondered, would they expect in return? And how was it that Kelev, who had only been with these blasted pink-skins for a single cycle, was already on such friendly terms with them?

At a sudden soft knock on the shed door, all three men stiffened. Motioning the others to stay where they were, the human nurse approached the entryway. "Who is it?" he called, his hand reaching for the security pad. Behind him, both Tholos and Kelev reached instinctively for their blades.

"It's Mareg and Lorat," a voice said softly from on the other side, "come to see Commander Kelev."

How timely, thought Tholos sourly, watching as the human male opened the door, and the Coridanite brothers stepped through the entryway. Looking at the two men - Mareg in the rear and another male, obviously his brother, in the lead - the commander could see the resemblance between them. Their shared ancestry was clearly evident, not just in their similar build, and in the way they held themselves, but also in the shape of their prominent Coridanite foreheads and other facial features. Seeing Tholos, they stopped short for a moment before proceeding further into the shed, their faces carefully blank.

"We are here to enquire after the patient," the one in the front declared, moving across to the make-shift bed and offering his hand to Kelev.

"Lorat," the injured Andorian said, offering his hand in return, "it is good to see you."

"And you, my friend," Lorat replied, breaking into a smile. "You look much better than the last time I saw you. I left you a corpse, and here you are, a living man again! These off-world healers must be skilled indeed!" At this exclamation, both the Coridanites and the Andorians glanced across at Connor Dowd, once again leaning casually against the adjacent storage cabinet, seemingly indifferent to the suddenly crowded conditions in the utility shed.

"Don't look at me, gentlemen," he said with a grin. "It's Doc Cameron you'll want to be thanking. She's one in a million."

"Indeed," said Kelev, a slight smile flitting across his face, "she is a lady like no other! I owe her my life." Tholos shifted, his antennae tensing. A blood debt was a serious matter for an Andorian - certainly not something to smile about. As if reading his mind, Kelev cocked an antenna at his comrade briefly, before growing sober again. "I owe you a debt as well, Lorat. Tell me what you need, and if it is in my power, then by the Spirits, I will get it for you!"

At this, the two brothers glanced at one another for a minute, as if in silent debate. Then Lorat looked across at Tholos, his face unreadable. Now we'll see, the commander thought. Now we'll see what it is these two really want, and why they've been helping us.

"The money you've given us already, Commanders," Lorat began slowly, "has been very helpful. Our sister's son wants to be an engineer, but the training is costly, and can only be obtained in the city. We have used what you have given Mareg to fund his studies."

Here he stopped, as if at a loss, and Tholos found himself looking at the brothers in a new light. Selling secrets might not be an honorable activity, but sacrificing for family was something any Andorian could understand and respect. Now he knew why Lorat's home was so bare and bleak, despite the payments given to Mareg. What would they want now, he found himself wondering - more money for their nephew?

"We have had another use for the money," the Coridanite continued, his brother a tense, silent shadow behind him. Looking earnestly at the off-worlders gathered around him, he stopped again, as if unsure of how to continue.

"Speak!" Kelev said. "You are among friends!" At this, Tholos stiffened, and Lorat looked across at him with a small, amused smile.

"Very well. I will take the chance." Again he hesitated however, as if battling a strong compulsion not to continue. Tholos found himself tensing, his antennae bending forward in concentration.

"I am a miner," said the Coridanite, "like my father before me, and like many of the men here in the Shengars. We toil in the deep places of Coridan, often for months at a time, and get no glimpse of the stars. Dilithium mining is dark, dirty work, and accident and illness stalk the miner. We earn a pittance for all of our trouble - hardly enough to live on. While our families starve, the wealthy mine owners in the city live a life of ease and plenty. They..." but here he abruptly cut himself off, as if suddenly conscious of the fact that his voice had been rising in anger as he spoke. He grimaced, before continuing in a stern, but more measured tone.

"They have little concern for our safety, or for the welfare of our people. My father used to say that what we Shengari needed was some means of bargaining with the City folk, some leverage to force them to improve the conditions of the mines. We are poor and powerless, and our voices are not heard, but my father used to say that if we spoke all together, in one voice, then we could not be ignored forever."

"A union," said Connor Dowd, leaning forward eagerly, his former pretense at indifference entirely forgotten. "You're forming a miners' union!"

"I do not know what that is," replied the Coridanite, "but for many years we have been organizing a secret society, so that when the time comes, we can bargain collectively."

"A union!" Connor Dowd repeated, an oddly jubilant note in his voice. "On my homeworld, such organizations fought for generations to better the condition of the workers."

Lorat nodded in understanding, before turning to the Andorians. "And do your people also have such organizations?"

"On Andoria," Kelev replied, "we have professional guilds which oversee the work done in various industries and professions. The guilds each send representatives to sit on a central council, where decisions are made that effect the economy as a whole, and where disputes between different sectors can be resolved. Because different lines of work are often dominated by specific keths, it would be very unlikely for an owner to mistreat his workers. If they were of his own blood, he would become an outcast; if they were of another, he might precipitate a keth-war."

"There was the case of Thoran Idrani," Tholos mused aloud, "who ignored warnings from the Science Guild that his ice mine was in danger of being overrun by a swarm of ice-bores. Eighty of his workers died in agony."

"That was two hundred years ago," Kelev replied, "and he paid for his negligence."

"What happened to him?" asked Mareg, speaking for the first time.

"He was exiled to the surface, with no supplies, and died far from his keth and kin," Tholos answered. "His body was left unrecovered, was never brought back into the shelter of the First Mother, nor was he ever given Final Honor."

"Here on Coridan, worker death is common. Two years ago there was an explosion in the south mine. There had been warning signs that the area was becoming unstable, but the owner refused to permit a slowdown. There was a massive order to fulfill for the Vulcans, and everyone knows that they like things to be done on time." Lorat paused here, his face somber. "Four hundred miners were killed, and their families left destitute, but the owner was not exiled. He was named to the government's highest council by his cousin, our Prime Minister."

Tholos felt his antennae flatten back against his head. He'd known about the explosion, of course, but had had no idea that the one responsible had been rewarded, rather than punished. What in An'Dor's name was wrong with these leaders in the Coridanite government? Spirits! If he had been born a Shengari, perhaps he too would have joined an insurgent group. "Is that why you joined the Rashan?" he interjected abruptly, speaking to his informant.

The brothers looked at one another again. "The Rashan are little better than criminals," Mareg finally replied. "They enjoy killing the City folk, but they do nothing to help the people here. I joined because Lorat asked me to."

At this, Lorat put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Mareg is our spy in the Rashan compound. He passes us information about the various insurgent groups, as well as what he can pick up about the central government and the Orugan. None of them is a friend to the miner."

Tholos felt a tightness in his chest. He could sense Kelev looking at him, although he was careful to avoid his new blood brother's eyes, keeping his focus on the Coridanites. Caught in a moment of paralysis that felt somehow akin to the lor'val, he realized with a shock that he was experiencing a sensation that could only be described as shame. Mareg and his brother were not who he had imagined them to be. Nothing, it seemed, was as he had thought it to be, here on Coridan. Was this what Commander Shran had experienced, after receiving help from Archer, a man he had so brutally interrogated? Was this why he had gone to such extraordinary lengths to repay the debt he felt he owed to the human captain? Kelev, Tholos noted with irritation, did not look particularly surprised.

"We have been organizing for years now," Lorat continued, "not just in the Shengars, but in the other outlying districts as well. West Olar, the Longar Ran, Pranda - the miners there are all with us. We have been waiting for the right time, and we think it has come. Soon... soon we will all walk out of the mines together, and refuse to come back until our demands are met."

"A strike..." Connor Dowd said softly.

"A work stoppage," the Coridanite replied.

"A strike," the human confirmed.

"What makes now the right time?" asked Kelev, sitting up in his bed and leaning forward, his expression intent, his antennae fixed upon Lorat.

"The formation of this new federation has given us hope. If the Vulcans could somehow be shamed into supporting us..."

"Or at least into not supporting the government," Mareg interjected.

"If they were to make continued dealings with Coridan dependent on the improvement of working conditions, then our bargaining position would be greatly strengthened."

"The central government care more for off-worlders and their opinions, than they do for us," Mareg added.

"Vulcans are incapable of shame," Tholos declared, gazing stoically back at Kelev and the human nurse, who were directing almost identical looks of impatience at him. On this, he knew he was right.

"But they can be persuaded," Connor replied, "if one uses the right arguments."

"This is what we want from you," said Lorat, looking at the Andorians. "If you wish to repay us, than use your influence to convince the Vulcans to support our strike." At this last part he nodded at the human, as if to thank him for teaching him the new word. There was a moment's silence in the shed, and then everyone began speaking at once.

"I am an Outsider..." began Kelev.

"Vulcans cannot be persuaded," Tholos intoned grimly.

"There has to be a way to make it work!" exclaimed Connor.

"Tholos," Kelev began again, "is of the Dara. There is no more powerful keth on Andoria. His mother's mother sits on the Imperial Council."

The commander, suddenly finding himself the center of attention, cleared his throat. "The Dara," he began reluctantly, "are not known for their altruism."

Here he was interrupted by Kelev. "A blood debt doesn't require altruism."

"A blood debt?"

"Am I not blood kin to the Dara now?" Kelev asked, a slight smirk stealing across his face.

Outsiders, Tholos thought, were really rather surprising. He had been prepared for anger from his comrade, at being made an unwilling son of the Dara; had braced himself for questions, resentment, even a possible challenge. It had simply never occurred to him that Kelev would seize so willingly (or so adeptly) upon his new status as a means of getting what he wanted. Introducing him to the rest of the keth was going to be quite interesting. Tholos had a feeling he was going to fit right in.

Caught in a trap of his own making, Tholos gave in to the inevitable. He suspected he'd never get any peace from Kelev again, if he didn't. "A blood debt is binding upon all members of a keth," he confirmed aloud. "I will do what lies in my power to see that the Dara supports a miners' strike here on Coridan. As for convincing the Vulcans, that is another matter..."

At that moment, as Kelev lay looking up at him with a slight, smug little smile on his face, there came the sound once again of someone at the door. Whoever it was clearly had the security code, and as the door swung open, the human doctor, Elinor Cameron, appeared in the frame. She stopped short when she saw the group of men, gathered together around Kelev's makeshift bed, all looking across at her.

"Am I interrupting something?, she asked hesitantly.

"We're planning a miners' strike!" said Connor jubilantly. "Come on in, Doc, and join the fun!"

Tholos was surprised when the human woman did not respond in kind to the friendly words. "The Commander has agreed to help us, Ganar," elaborated Lorat, "to use his influence on Andoria to gain us interstellar support."

"Perhaps you should ask Mr. Dowd for his help as well," she replied, her face stiff with some unspoken emotion. "After all, he has some very highly-placed connections back on Earth!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Sitting in the cool, comfortable waiting room reserved for visitors to Coridan's planetary Medical Board, the high-vaulted ceiling soaring above her, the beautiful marble floor echoing with the sound of every passerby's footsteps, Elinor reflected that the capital city might as well be on a different world than the Shengars. How different this beautiful, opulent city was, with its broad avenues, majestic buildings and carefully laid-out parks, from the squalid shantytowns that surrounded it. It was like passing from night into day, leaving the outlying districts and stepping through the massive security gates that guarded the inner city. How ironic that the beauty of the one was built, at least partially, upon the ugliness of the other. It reminded Elinor of those old Buddhist beliefs about the lotus, rising in beauty from the filth and muck of the water around it. Of course, that contrasting relationship was a natural one, evolving over time, whereas the one between the City and its outlying districts was social and economic, created artificially by the Coridanites themselves.

Dr. Togar shifted beside her on the bench, and Elinor dismissed these thoughts, turning to her companion with a smile. "What a lovely building this is, Doctor," she said to the older man, careful to speak softly, so that her voice wouldn't echo too much in the cavernous room.

"Quite a contrast to the Shengars, perhaps?," the Coridanite asked, a note of gentle enquiry in his voice. Elinor blushed. Had her thoughts been so obvious?

"The contrast is difficult to overlook, my dear," he said, almost as if in response to her unspoken question, "especially if one has just come from the outer districts." Here he was silent for a moment, before continuing, "Of course, most city dwellers never see the districts at all, preferring to bypass them altogether when leaving the city." At her look of enquiry, he elaborated: "They travel by air, by and large, when visiting other parts of Coridan. I use the air-train myself, when returning home to my family's vineyard."

"But you had visited the districts before we set up our clinic, surely," Elinor replied.

"Yes," the Coridanite responded. "As a young man I had some good friends from West Olar." Here he subsisted into silence, offering no further elaboration.

Elinor again looked around the massive waiting room, empty save for herself and Dr. Togar. The intricate mosaic on the floor, done in marble of various bright colors, was somewhat reminiscent of the sand mandala she had once seen created by a Tibetan monk, when she had visited the great monastery at Dharamshala. The broad outer border of the mosaic, running along the walls of the circular chamber, was a deep blueish-black, with what looked like bright yellow flowers scattered along its length. Within this outer circle, a seemingly endless array of smaller circular forms, connected by interlocking knot-work - more reminiscent of ancient Celtic art than Tibetan - could be seen. Like a necklace of beads, strung together by these delicate chains of knot-work, and forming a smaller circle within the outer border, each panel displayed a different design. Some showed symbols, at whose meaning Elinor could only guess, while others contained flowers, fruit and grains, musical instruments, or various objects of a practical nature. The benches provided for visitors were likewise arranged in a circular pattern, facing inward toward the center of the chamber and spaced so as not to obscure any of the mosaic panels. Elinor noticed that the panel just to the right of the bench on which she and Dr. Togar were seated depicted an open book, with a writing implement laid across it. The large inner circle at the center of the mosaic contained what looked like an old-fashioned medical instrument, somewhat reminiscent of an ancient Earth stethoscope.

The walls of the chamber, which held up the massive skylight above, were decorated with beautiful mural paintings, also contained in circular panels and connected by delicate knot-work designs. The scenes depicted were of a medical nature: doctors bent over patients, administering care; researchers sitting at tables, perhaps working away at finding new cures; explorers walking through dense forests, harvesting healing plants. Elinor was struck by the fact that most of the Coridanites depicted were women. One of the few exceptions could be seen in the panel opposite their seat, which depicted what she assumed was a historic moment from Coridan's past. In the scene, a group of women in hooded robes, seated behind a long conference table, were confronted by a lone Coridanite man standing before them. The man was gesturing with one hand, while in the other he held the same stethoscope-like instrument depicted in the central panel of the floor mosaic.

"Ah," said Dr. Togar, noting the direction of her gaze, "I see that you have discovered the great Nolar."

"Nolar?", Elinor repeated, looking across at her companion for clarification.

"The first male doctor on Coridan," he replied. "He was recognized by the Healer's Council - the precursor of our current Medical Board - some five hundred years ago."

"Were men not allowed to become doctors before that?"

"They were not forbidden, but it had always been Coridanite custom to view women as being more naturally suited to the healing arts. As those who bring life into the world, it was held that they were its fit guardians and caretakers. I do not think that any man before Nolar requested the honor of becoming a healer."

"And today?," Elinor asked curiously. "Are there many male doctors today?"

"We make up approximately fifteen percent of the medical profession, planet-wide," Dr. Togar replied calmly, smiling slightly at her indrawn breath.

"So few!," she exclaimed.

"Old traditions die hard, if not with our leaders, than certainly with our people. Many Coridanites, both men and women, still feel more comfortable being treated by a female doctor. Surely you have noticed that even in the Shengars, where one might imagine the people would be happy to see any doctor at all, our patients flock more to your care than mine."

Elinor had noticed nothing of the kind - what else was new?, she wondered wryly - so busy with her work that she had not thought to look around and observe such details. "I'm afraid," she began hesitantly, "that I can develop tunnel vision, when it comes to my work."

"Tunnel vision?," repeated Dr. Togar, a note of confusion in his voice.

"A human colloquialism. It refers to a state in which one becomes so involved in a particular task or idea, that no attention can be spared for anything else. One's field of vision shrinks to the path directly ahead, much as it does when entering a tunnel."

"Ah, I see. We refer to that as 'seeing through a hood,' as such a garment often hampers peripheral vision."

"Isn't it rather odd that our patients should prefer an alien doctor, just because she is female?," Elinor asked. "Doesn't that bother you?"

Dr. Togar smiled, his customary twinkle returning. "The first tenet of Coridanite medicine is to respect the will of the patient. Their sense of comfort with their doctor, and their acceptance of the treatment plan offered to them are necessary for the success of any healing process. In your absence our Shengari friends are not unwilling to accept me, but when you are there they often fall back on long-standing preferences." Here the elderly man sighed. "I won't deny that there are times when I wish it were otherwise, but one should not become a healer at all, if one cannot put the welfare of the patient first."

Listening to her colleague's gentle tone, Elinor was struck anew by her immense good fortune in finding him as a partner for the clinic. He was a calm and patient teacher, somehow managing to impart a great deal of information without ever sounding like he was lecturing, correcting so many of her cultural misapprehensions with no hint of judgement or ill will. "On Earth," she offered, "our history has been rather different. Although women were often healers in many early tribal cultures, in the modern era they were excluded from the medical profession, and had to fight to be admitted. Our Nolar was a woman named Elizabeth Blackwell."

"How... interesting," replied the Coridanite. "On what basis were women excluded?"

"I suppose the thinking went that women were not analytical enough thinkers to become doctors, and were too delicate to witness the bloodier aspects of medicine in those days. Women were viewed in many cultures as the weaker, more emotional sex. And of course, in some human cultures there were very strong taboos on women interacting with men who were not of their kin, taboos that men did not face to the same degree, in their dealings with unrelated women."

"But how could that be, if all the women were required to avoid men not of their family?," asked Dr. Togar in perplexity.

"How indeed..," murmured Elinor. Seeing her companion's puzzlement, she elaborated: "An anthropologist or historian could no doubt give you a better answer, but I would imagine that it has to do with having less respect for the honor and welfare of the other group, whether that meant another family, or the people of another culture altogether."

"So human men would encourage women not of their kin group to act in ways that they would censure, were the women their own relations?" There was a note of incredulity in the doctor's voice, as if he found it difficult to believe such a thing possible.

"Sometimes, yes." At the Coridanite's still incredulous look, she laughed somewhat ruefully. "I'm afraid we humans have a tendency to espouse social views, and to believe in certain religious and philosophical ideals, that we aren't always willing, or even able to uphold through our own personal behavior. Fortunately, most of those old taboos governing women's actions have faded with time. Although it was a struggle at first, we now make up more than half of the doctors on Earth."

"And it has proved a blessing for Coridan," Dr. Togar replied, with a small, courtly bow in her direction.

Elinor flushed, silently cursing the fact that even small acts of courtesy, no matter how kindly meant, always made her feel so uncomfortable. As a child, she had infinitely preferred being overlooked by visitors, to being made much of, and those old feelings had not faded over the years. "This mosaic is quite interesting," she said hurriedly, hoping to cover her awkwardness, her inability to respond in kind to sophisticated gestures and words. "What do the different symbols mean?"

The Coridanite doctor looked down, his eyes scanning the floor. "It is a galgarot," he replied, "an artistic form representing the Coridanite conception of the nature of life, and its place in the cosmos. Such designs are produced in many different artistic media, although this is certainly a magnificent example. I believe that Halnor, the greatest mosaic-worker of the twentieth period, was its creator." Glancing across at her with a twinkle in his eye, Dr. Togar continued: "Unlike medicine, the visual arts on Coridan have traditionally been dominated by men. The sexual dimorphism of our species has given our males far greater spatial acuity and depth perception, leading to the long-held belief that they make better painters, sculptors and architects."

"And has that changed as well over the centuries?," Elinor asked.

"Very little, actually. We Coridanites change more slowly than you humans, I suspect. Perhaps because your many cultures have given you a long tradition of conflict, adjustment and then resolution. We have had fewer distinct cultures, although our civilization has passed through a multitude of different epochs. In any case, women have never been forbidden from pursuing the artistic disciplines, any more than men have been from becoming healers, but few seem interested in such pursuits." Here he paused for a minute, before adding, "We have had many singers and musicians of both sexes however, as music is a universal pursuit."

"Is it?," asked Elinor.

"Do not the stars themselves sing?" the doctor replied, smiling across at her. "Look," he said, gesturing toward the outer ring of the mosaic. "The border of a galgarot always represents the cosmos - the massive, eternal stage on which all of the events of creation play out. You see the brightness of the stars, shining out in the deep darkness of space, calling to one another and to us, their light a symphony reaching across the seeming void."

Elinor shivered, moved by the older man's beautiful words. Had she thought those stars flowers? Had she believed the border to be merely decorative? How much meaning one missed, every moment of the day, just moving through life! Here on Coridan especially, there was a wealth of significance running along beneath the surface of her days, so little of it within her grasp.

"The cosmos is too vast to know," Dr. Togar continued, almost as if in response to Elinor's anguished sense of wonderment. "It is the border, the canvas, the stage - and the whole. Wherever we are in the circle, we are too small to encompass it all. Against this infinite backdrop, and yet a part of it as well, the never-ending circle plays out. Our lives, as individuals and as a group, are represented in all of the smaller panels you see here, in the second ring of the galgarot. The symbolic stages of development can be found at the four cardinal directions, while the pursuits and professions we undertake are interspersed between them."

"And the center...?," Elinor asked.

"The central panel of any galgarot gives an indication of those who commissioned it, and is meant to represent the core idea or activity around which their lives rotate. Here we see the dalor, an instrument that was once the most recognizable symbol of the healer's craft."

Before she could begin to formulate a response, a third voice interposed, speaking in a cool but pleasant voice. "Dr. Cameron?" With a start, both Elinor and Dr. Togar looked up, having become so engrossed in their conversation that they had not heard the approach of the ministry employee now standing before them.

"Yes," Elinor replied somewhat breathlessly, before gesturing to her companion and continuing, "and this is Dr. Togar." At this the ministry employee, a stern looking woman with close-cropped hair, in a long robe with the hood thrown back, smiled down at her.

"Indeed," the woman replied, before continuing: "the minister is waiting for you, if you will follow me."

At these words the two companions stood, following their guide from the chamber. The way they took was a winding one, leading along so many long corridors and around so many corners that Elinor was sure she would never be able to find her own way out again. She had always been hopeless at remembering directions. Finally, at the very end of the last corridor, they came to a massive door of intricately carved wood. Here the Coridanite woman stopped, reaching into a waist-level recess in the wall nearby, and using the small wooden hammer she removed to knock sharply on the sole smooth panel in the center of the door. At the sound of a voice calling from within, she pushed the door open, gesturing for Elinor and Dr. Togar to enter before her.

"Dr. Cameron and Dr. Togar," she announced from the door, "of the Shengari Clinic." At this she closed the door again, leaving the two doctors standing in the entryway.

A tiny, elderly woman, also dressed in a long robe, with the hood thrown back to reveal her snow white hair, was seated behind a massive desk on the other side of the room. Smiling across at them and partially rising from her chair, she gestured for them to come forward. "Please come in, doctors, and be seated. I am Minister Andan, the head of the Medical Board's licensing department." As the two visitors seated themselves in the comfortable chairs before her desk, she continued, "Togar I know of old," twinkling across at the Coridanite man in a way that Elinor found oddly familiar.

Dr. Togar smiled in return. "Andan and I are cousins, and attended the Healing College together," he said to Elinor. "She, of course, has risen to far greater heights than I."

"Absurd man!" the minister exclaimed affectionately, still smiling across at him, before turning to Elinor. "He has been offered a ministerial position three times now," she said, "but he insists on remaining a true practitioner of the healing arts - one who works with the people."

Elinor smiled at the older woman in her turn. "Our clinic has benefitted greatly from that decision," she said. "I cannot tell you how many times I have been grateful for his presence, how much I have learned from him!"

Minister Andan looked positively delighted at this statement. "He has always been an excellent teacher," she replied, with evident satisfaction. "I have it on good authority that he has been offered a position at the Healing College as well." So saying, she shook her head in mock censure at Dr. Togar, who had been sitting calmly throughout this exchange.

"I am a simple country man," he replied, "and do not seek exalted status."

"And how does this simple country man find the Shengars?," Andan asked, leaning across her desk and directing a searching look at her kinsman.

"In great need of doctors," he replied succinctly.

"Yes. So you have been saying these many years," she replied. "Your coming," she said to Elinor, "was in the way of a miracle for Togar, who has long argued for the creation of clinics in the outer districts. And now, I understand, we are to expect more of you?" Elinor was struck by the minister's delicately questioning tone, as if she weren't perfectly aware that this was the object of their visit.

"Yes, Minister," Elinor replied. "We hope to bring two more human doctors to work in the clinic. They are both graduates of the medical school I attended, and learned of our efforts in the Shengars through a newsletter that I provide to our alumni magazine, detailing our activities here. They are interested in coming out for a year."

"Are all humans so benevolently inclined?," Andan asked curiously.

Elinor flushed. Although there had been no hint of sarcasm in the Coridanite woman's voice, the question made her uncomfortable, reminding her of the many ways and times that humanity had been wanting in its benevolence. "It is not a question of selflessness," she began slowly, caught between a need to be honest and her desire to present the arrival of more humans on Coridan in a positive light. "Nor should it be seen as a one sided exchange, in which one party receives all of the benefit. Of course, we all want to help the people in the Shengars. But for our volunteers, there is also the desire to gain experience in the field. Dr. Togar and I, in the meantime, will gain some much-needed help. There is a possibility that I might need to return to Earth for a time, as our activities have attracted attention, and there is talk of starting a foundation to help fund similar ventures around the quadrant. In such an eventuality, having more staff would be a necessity. Everyone has something to gain, in bringing Drs. Chan and Ramirez to Coridan."

"An admirable sentiment," the minister replied. "I see from the documentation you have provided that these prospective recruits have only recently completed their full training. Do you feel they are ready for such a demanding environment as the Shengars?"

"I too was a recent graduate when I arrived," Elinor reminded Andan, "but I learned quickly. As I said before, I was lucky to have Dr. Togar as a guide."

At this her companion stirred, interjecting to say, "And so will Dr. Chan and Dr. Ramirez."

"It wasn't clear from the academic summaries you sent, but has either of them traveled off planet before?"

"Dr. Ramirez' parents are diplomats, Minister," Elinor replied, "and that has afforded him the opportunity to visit other worlds. As for Dr. Chan, I do not believe she has ever left Earth before."

The questions continued over the next hour, as Andan politely grilled Elinor about the two new volunteers, enquiring about everything from their specialization to the living arrangements that had been made for them. Finally, she sat back in her chair, with a nod of satisfaction. "Everything appears to be in order, Dr. Cameron," she said, addressing herself to Elinor, who had done the lion's share of the talking. "Chan and Ramirez seem qualified, and their letters of application certainly reveal an eagerness to work here on Coridan. My only remaining concern is with your security."

"Our security?," Elinor repeated in a questioning tone.

"We were assured by Starfleet Intelligence that Mr. Dowd was more than qualified to see to your safety, and that arrangements would be made with the powers that be on the ground..." Here she paused minutely, as if embarrassed to be acknowledging any authority other than the planetary government, before continuing, "arrangements to ensure that your presence would be acceptable to the locals."

"Starfleet Intelligence...?," Elinor parroted weakly, her stomach clenching in dread. She had not been aware of any communication at all between Starfleet and the Coridanite government, with regard to her clinic.

"Yes," Andan replied, consulting the pad in front of her before continuing. "We spoke with a Commander Alexander Cameron, I believe. A relative of yours, perhaps?"

Elinor was conscious of a buzzing in her ears. She heard the sound of Minister Andan's voice as the Coridanite woman continued to speak, but her words seemed to be coming from far away, and she couldn't understand them. All this time, she had thought she was striking out on her own! She had thought she was getting away from the Cameron influence, putting the atmosphere of secrecy and the feeling of being left in the dark behind her. And all this time the family had been keeping track of her, and making arrangements without her knowledge - as if she were still a child! While she had been congratulating herself on her good fortune in finding Connor, the truth was that he had found her. Did he work for Starfleet Intelligence? Now she understood why he had been so embarrassed when she had mentioned her brother! No doubt he had been sent by Alex to keep an eye on her. Did he send regular reports back to Earth?, she wondered, blinking her eyes against the tears that were beginning to form. I mustn't cry, she told herself fiercely.

"Dr. Cameron?" Dr. Togar's concerned voice cut through her chaotic thoughts. The minister had stopped talking, and was giving her a quizzical look. With a great effort, Elinor pulled herself together. There would be time to mull over this revelation later.

"I'm so sorry," she began, "I was somewhere else. You were saying?"

"Indeed," said Andan. "I was asking whether you had had the chance to discuss matters of security with Mr. Dowd, and whether his presence was sufficient to protect four people, rather than just two."

"Now Andan," Dr. Togar interjected smoothly, much to Elinor's relief, "we are hardly likely to be attacked..."

"Don't be naive, Togar!," the older woman interrupted sharply. "The Shengars have the highest level of criminal activity on the planet! Who knows what those people might do, if given an opportunity?" Holding up a restraining hand to forestall his words of protest, she continued: "I know that there are many good people there as well, and that they are in need of medical care. Recall that it is I who have always supported your efforts, and argued for you here at the Medical Board."

"I have not forgotten, Lanaa," he replied soothingly. "I merely meant to point out that the danger is minimal, given the arrangements that I am sure Mr. Dowd has made."

"And you feel that this will hold true, with the addition of two more staffers?"

"I have every confidence in Mr. Dowd. If additional measures need to be taken, I am sure he will do so."

Elinor sat numbly, listening to their exchange. Were they talking about bribing the local criminal and paramilitary organizations? Was that why they had had so little trouble since coming to the Shengars? So much for her belief that trust and friendship could be built through openness and the offer of good medical care! Feeling like a fool, like a child playing at being a grown-up while the true adults watched indulgently, she wondered suddenly if Alex had interceded on her behalf with the Coridanite government as well. Could anything she had done, since coming to Coridan, be considered her own accomplishment?

"Very well," Andan was saying, "you obviously feel that the existing security arrangements are adequate. I have to ask these things, Togar, both as a representative of the Medical Board and as your cousin."

"I am honored by your care," the elderly Coridanite man replied warmly.

"Hmph," the minister snorted in reply, a slightly exasperated look on her face. "Well, it's reassuring in any case to know that you have such confidence in Mr. Dowd. My report to the Board will reflect that fact." Here she paused for a moment, looking across at both Elinor and Togar. "Were there any questions that either of you had for me?"

"No, Minister," Elinor replied weakly, wanting nothing so much as to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"Not at this time, Lanaa," Dr. Togar said calmly, a note of amusement in his voice.

"Then it would appear our business is concluded. If my recommendation is accepted by the Board - and I see no reason why it should not be - than the relevant licenses will be issued shortly, and we will expect Dr. Chan and Dr. Ramirez next month." Saying this, she nodded her head at them.

"Thank you, Minister," Elinor said as she stood up.

"I will have my assistant show you out," Andan replied briefly, her face softening somewhat as she looked across at Togar, who was also standing. "I look forward to seeing you again on Fifth Day, Lanaar," she said to him.

"Our dinners are the high point of my cycle," the Coridanite man replied, smiling slightly as Andan waved her hand dismissively at him, as if to shoo him out of the office.

Elinor was grateful that Dr. Togar did not attempt discussion as their guide led them back through the labyrinthine hallways to the waiting room, and from there, to the entrance of the massive building. Standing in the park-like space that separated the imposing structure from the wide boulevard in front of it, Elinor took a deep breath. The air was moist and cool, and the sky was darkening, as evening approached.

"You are distressed, my dear," Dr. Togar said solicitously, looking across at her with concern.

"I just... I'm afraid that..." Elinor trailed off helplessly, not sure of what to say.

The Coridanite was quiet for a moment, standing with her in the growing dark. "Andan has always thought me something of a dreamer," he then said, seemingly at random. Staring off into space, he continued, "She sometimes acts as if I were still a boy, in need of guidance and protection. My brother is the same... he thinks it madness to want to work in the Shengars. Every time we meet he tells me I should take a position with the Medical Board, or come home to the family vineyard."

Elinor cleared her throat, also looking ahead, rather than directly at Dr. Togar. "Does it bother you?," she asked.

"Once it did, a great deal. As a young man I thought myself a fine, independent fellow..." Here he paused, a sad look passing over his face. "Perhaps I was a bit naive, after all. If my years have taught me anything, it is that there is no such thing as true independence. We are inextricably bound together, most especially with our kin." At this he smiled across at her, before continuing, "there are worse things than thinking well of people, and wanting to help them. Just," he said gently, "as there are worse things than wanting to protect our loved ones from the hard blows of experience."

"They act as if I were too stupid or too weak to know the truth!" Elinor exclaimed. "Secrets! Always secrets!" At this she subsisted, embarrassed at her outburst.

"I can not tell you what to do, child," her companion replied gently. "I can only share my own experience. As I've grown older I have come to accept that my family expresses their love for me in this way. There have even been times over the years," he admitted ruefully, "that I have appreciated their protective nature, and have sought their help."

Elinor sighed, before biting her lip - a nervous habit she had had since childhood. She knew that the doctor was right, even if she still felt too aggrieved to accept it. There were worse things than having an overprotective, secretive family, she supposed. One might have a family that didn't care at all - now that would be truly terrible!

"Come," the doctor continued, interrupting these thoughts, "let me escort you home."

Straightening, Elinor shook her head. "No thank you, doctor. I have some work I need to finish at the clinic."

"Will you be all right?" he asked.

Elinor wondered for a moment if he was referring to her state of mind, or to the dangers of returning to the Shengars with nightfall fast approaching. Did it matter? "I will be fine. I need to have some words with Connor, in any event, and it cannot wait until tomorrow."

"Don't be too hard on the boy," the older man replied. "I believe he is truly devoted to your welfare."

Elinor sighed again. So was Alex, she had no doubt... but she could cheerfully wring his neck at the moment, just the same. "I will try not to fly off the handle, Doctor," she replied.

"Then I will bid you goodnight, and hope to see you in the morning." With these words he bowed slightly in her direction, before setting off toward the light rail stop that would take him to his own residence. For her part, Elinor set her face toward the east, heading for the massive security gate that separated the City from the Shengars. She would need to hurry, if she was to get through before curfew, and reach the clinic. Connor had some questions to answer...