Conflicts


13:04 Veyjon palace


Kahlin sat thoughtfully at her dressing area, studying her reflection. Her silver eyes stared sullenly, focusing on each individual feature of her face before deeming it acceptable and moving on to the next. Once she had completed her inspection she glanced over the various bottles, many containing luxurious compounds specially designed for her race's skin, littering the table before her. She chose a small, grey spray bottle. Gradually, she became aware of the muffled sound of excited chatter, and she glanced toward the door of her chambers. With a shake of her head, she returned her gaze to the mirror and began to spray a steady stream of grey powder onto her face.

Her skin was already a rich, dark grey, with a blue tinge that shone in the dim evening light. When the layer of dull powder had set, she took a short black stick between her slender fingers and set about tracing neat lines above and below her eyes, accentuating their large almond shape. This done, she used the same stick to colour in her thin, white lips, before pinning her bejewelled hair atop her head. Ceremonial robes hung loosely from a small hook to the left of her mirror.

Images of her servants ran steadily through her mind. They had done so for days now, and she felt suddenly queasy at the tasks that lay ahead of her. The T'Hemar had been held in slavery for over a century, believed to be an inferior species by her people. Kahlin held no such belief, and neither had her father. He had been a good man, though the strength of his compassion had been matched only by the strength of his desire for peace. He would never have taken action against such rigid tradition unless he was forced to. Kahlin, however, was unable to stand by and watch suffering of any kind.

The announcement she would put to the senate in just half an hour's time would cause conflicts of an enormity she had never before encountered. She had realized with dismay that there may be attempts on her life by her own people.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a quiet knocking at the entrance.

"Enter."

The door opened, and a tall, slim man entered. His skin was also rich with the same grey-blue as Kahlin's, although his features were set far deeper into his face. He was much older than her and ruggedly handsome, with a warm, ambient expression. He smiled happily into the mirror; his bright gaze falling on Kahlin's carefully decorated form.

"Greetings, Estje. Your people await your arrival with great excitement. You look? magnificent."

"Senator, please do not address me in such a manner. I am not yet your Estje, nor are we on such intimate terms."

"No, not yet. I apologize. You are nervous about taking the throne," He smiled, more a statement than a question, "It is unnecessary. You are the perfect replacement for your-"

"I am not his replacement," she said firmly, "I am his successor. My father did not approve of such obvious attempts at flattery to win his favour. Nor shall I."

Krenikk nodded in understanding. The death of Estje Kelnine had affected her deeply, and he felt a sudden urge to protect the young woman from the regal life that she must now make her own. He had watched helplessly as she had erected impenetrable barriers around herself, troubled by problems she had yet to reveal to him. Her father had been a born leader, passionate and feeling, with a great sense of authority. Certainly a tough act to follow, considering that his reign had brought stability to their small planet that had been absent for the previous four centuries. Fortunately, his death had been a peaceful one. He was an old man, and had died quietly in his sleep.

"My most humble apologies. I do not attempt to win your favour, but merely to welcome you, as the new Estje, on behalf of the Senate and the Veyjon people. Now, you must dress for the ceremony," he gestured with one hand in the direction of her heavy looking green robes, "Shall I request a servant on my way to the halls?"

"No, thank you," she sighed, "The servants have enough on their hands. I am more than capable of dressing myself."

Krenikk smiled, quietly bemused by her refusal.

"As you wish."

She bowed her head in respect toward the reflection of her chief senator. Returning the gesture, he turned on his heel and left her in silence.

 

13:06 Veyjon home


"E'lann," hissed a male voice "E'lann, are you okay? Answer me!"

E'garr thumped the vent he spoke into with the flat of his hand. His sister had been held in solitary confinement for almost two days, and still wasn't responding to anyone. The last time he had seen her, she was in the process of being badly beaten by their owner, and then roughly thrown in the brig, a room to which only he had the access codes. E'garr had made no attempt to help her during the beating. As difficult as it had been, he was aware that any action on his part would result in a prolonged punishment for his sister, and an additional one for himself. Their owner was out at the coronation along with the rest of the Veyjon of the household, and they had worked out long ago that noises from the small air vent in the kitchen could be heard in the brig. They used this method of communication whenever one of them, usually E'lann, got put in there. E'garr couldn't decide whether it was pride or injury that prevented her response.

"E'lann, you've got to answer me. It's today! We need you."

After a long silence, E'garr took a deep breath and went to speak again. Hearing the muted sound of footsteps, he paused, smiling softly at his sister's inability to resist a fight.

"Today?" came the muffled response, "but Lebdall said he was unsure..."

"... Never mind what he said before, this is what he says now. We got another transmission."

"Saying what?"

"Saying that we can't wait any longer. The best time to make our move is during the coronation."

E'lann growled in frustration. What I wouldn't do for a leader who could make a decision and stick to it, she thought, almost feeling the heat of her blood boiling at the arrogance, the incompetence of their alleged leader. The lives of her people were at stake, and he didn't have a clue.

"What are you talking about? The coronation is in half an hour!"

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you hit our owner."

"That bastard doesn't own me!"

"Look, pretty soon he's going to own us all. He's made a deal with Lebdall. He knows about the rebellion, and he's going to help us."

"What?" she spat, "Oh, Lebdall has really outdone himself this time? how the hell did he get to be leader anyway? He's inept, E'garr! Why would a Veyjon want to help us out? It's got to be a double-cross!"

E'lann punched the wall of the brig several times, hard. Glancing around the room, trying to think of a way out, she lifted the small bed that rested against the far wall and with a roar of effort, heaved it against the force field. The sight of the bed bouncing from the mesh of light and crashing to the floor only served to fan the flames of her rage, and she continued to pummel the contents of the room. E'garr winced, listening to the tantrum from the safety of the kitchen. After waiting several moments for her to wear herself out, he continued.

"Because he knows of our plans to overthrow the Veyjon. He knows that there are more of us, and that we'll win. Nobody wants to be on the losing team, do they? By helping us, he's ensuring his own safety... except from you, obviously."

E'lann leant against the wall by the vent, and slowly allowed her body to slide down until she was level with it. Breathing raggedly, she granted herself a bitter chuckle at E'garr's quip.

"Obviously. So... how am I going to get out of here in time?"

"He gave me the access codes before he left."

There was a stunned silence.

"I? wha? you?"

"Hey, I didn't want to be the same room with you when you heard about Lebdall? It could have been me flying across the room!"

E'lann's shocked anger quickly melted into laughter. Her brother had an ability to diffuse just about any situation with humour. Ever since she was a little girl, she had never been able to stay angry with him for long.

"Get me out of here, you."

 

13:15 Veyjon palace


Kahlin emerged from her chambers slowly in full ceremonial regalia, and silently nodded towards the gaping palace guard by her door. She gestured with her right hand for him to accompany her through the palace corridors, which he did immediately. He made as if to speak, and then decided against the idea, as if it were perhaps inappropriate for someone as low as a guard, a T'Hemar guard at that, to initiate a conversation with his future Estje. This did not go unnoticed by the young woman, and she felt her own anxiety ebb as she smiled warmly at his polite awkwardness.

"Do you wish to speak, Larett?" she inquired, "That is your name, isn't it?"

Larett coughed loudly as Kahlin uttered his name, rather than "guard", or "servant", unable to disguise his shocked expression. They had met only once before, a few months earlier. He had seen her many times, of course, but it had been a particularly revealing encounter for him. As a palace guard, he lived on the premises and often went to the palace kitchens along with a few others after their shifts, just to get themselves a little something before retiring for the night. On this particular night, after sharing a small snack of hydral berries and nak milk with two other guards, Kahlin entered the room in her nightwear. The men immediately began to apologise for their presence, and offered to prepare food for her if she was hungry. When Kahlin simply thanked them for their offer and began to prepare her own food, they had been astonished. As she had piled various fruits into a large dish she had asked their names, even enquired a little about their interests, and she would occasionally pop a small piece of fruit into her mouth during the men's replies. Larett had found all this most un-regal, and strangely beguiling at the same time, but he had believed that she had asked their names to report them for punishment the following morning. He had never dreamed that she would ask simply because she wished to know.

"It is, Ma'am," he stuttered, "and yes, if I may."

"Of course."

"You look beautiful, Ma'am."

Kahlin stopped walking for a moment, and allowed the words to sink in. She grinned at Larett, and then continued to walk by his side.

"I think you're just about the only person who hasn't said that because I'm more powerful than them."

"Ma'am?"

The woman's demeanour changed. Her brow furrowed and the smile fell from her face as she made a decision to talk to the man beside her about what was to come. She needed some encouragement, or she may well decide against the whole thing through nerves.

"Larett, my name is Kahlin. Only call me Ma'am in formal situations. All my confidantes and senators call me by my first name when we're alone, except the ones who think that calling me by my formal name will earn them a promotion."

"I? don't understand. I'm not a senator."

"No, you're not. But you're about to become my confidante."

"What are you telling me here?"

"I have to tell someone before I do this," she breathed deeply as she spoke, as if on the verge of a panic attack, "I need to know someone is behind me, and I can't talk to anyone else? my species wouldn't understand. I'm telling you, Larett? that in twenty minute's time, I will pass a law stating that your people are equal to mine. That slavery will be abolished."

The stare that Larett held began to look beyond her, as he realised the enormity of what he had just been told. His gaze trailed to the floor and he reached a hand out behind him, groping blindly at the air hoping for some support from a wall, a pillar, anything. None materialised, and he fell to the floor, a crumpled heap of black uniform and pale green skin. Kahlin rushed to help, and he raised a hand, gesturing that he was all right. Slowly, he lifted his bright blue eyes until he once again found himself face to face with the now crouching Kahlin. He felt the hot sting of tears building, and his nostrils flared involuntarily as he tried to choke out a coherent sentence.

"This? would be a? cruel joke."

"It's not a joke," she said seriously, "it's real."

"Why?" he croaked, "Why help? us?"

She paused for a moment. Why was she doing this?

"Maybe, Larett, I'm trying to save my ochret as well as yours. As much as my people have shielded my eyes from the world, from the ugliness within it, there are things that I can't help but see."

The T'Hemar and Veyjon were united only in the belief that they were in possession of an ochret, created of light and air, which exists beyond the physical being. It inhabits a body only once, but lives free before the body is born and after it dies, much like leaves floating on a breeze. The ochret was a subject that their new guests had been particularly interested in. Kahlin didn't really want visitors at such a crucial time, but refusing would only have aroused suspicion that she couldn't afford. Unfortunately, this meant them being present at the coronation when she would announce the new laws, and chaos would break loose. It was a shame, especially as she had grown to like them over the past few weeks.

"I don't see what this has to do with your ochret, Ma'? Kahlin."

"People who have caused, or played a part in the suffering of the innocent shall never be free. It has been foretold."

"I believe that in your prophecies, the suffering of lower beings is of no consequence to the ochret?"

Kahlin's eyes flashed with anger, and she grabbed Larett roughly by the shoulders, causing him to draw breath involuntarily.

"You are not a lower being!" she hissed.

Still shaken and red eyed, he placed a hand on hers and searched her eyes as if unable to believe that this was real.

"You truly do believe that, don't you?"

"I know it."

Squeezing her hand, he smiled and clambered to his feet. Kahlin followed suit.

"You will make a fine Estje, Kahlin."

She grinned playfully at this.

"I know that, too."

 

13:15 Veyjon home


"People, it's time. Take your places."

Lebdall spoke with authority, a man who was clear in his mission, if not in his strategy. The army of T'Hemar who had congregated in the lower levels of the household were a mixture of confusion and fear. E'lann and E'garr had scrambled to the basement only minutes earlier.

"Lebdall, what exactly are our places?" ventured a young, blonde haired woman, "I feel more unsure of what I'm doing every time you open your mouth."

There was an unsettling murmur and a few nodding heads in the crowd.

"Hey, hey! Settle down. I'm your damned leader, now listen to me," He yelled gruffly, "I'm meeting the Veyjon insider at the tertiary palace gates. He'll distract the guards and smuggle me in, along with a few others. Once inside, we'll disable the guards and open the gates for the rest of you. "

"That'll work great, as soon as we have a real leader."

Lebdall's head snapped around so quickly that he strained the muscles of his neck. Wincing slightly, he almost choked when he realised who the challenger was.

"E'lann? How could you-"?

"We have to win. For that, we need someone clear in their plans. That's not you. Everyone wanted me as leader from the start, and I'm not about to stand by and watch you screw up this operation. We have too much to lose."

Another murmur spread through the T'Hemar present, and E'lann stood eyeing Lebdall with as much defiance as she could muster, as if daring him to argue.

"She's right," said E'garr, "can we really afford to take chances?"

"The insider isn't expecting you!" Lebdall shouted.

"I know him better than you do, Lebdall. He thinks you're an idiot. A fucking idiot, do you hear me?" she seethed, "and he'll feel nothing but relief when I arrive in your place. Now, any questions?"

"Should we alert the guards of the rebellion?" asked the blonde woman.

"Under no circumstances are the guards to be alerted. They may be T'Hemar, but many feel a displaced sense of loyalty to the monarchy. I don't think they'll be on our side. You must be prepared for that. Now, who's with me?"

A new surge of energy charged the room, as the crowd happily accepted E'lann as their new leader. Several approached her to offer words of encouragement.

"You can't do this!" Lebdall yelled, "This is my operation!"

"Shut up, Lebdall. We don't have time for this. Now everyone, follow me."

With a growl of contempt, Lebdall joined the crowd who were already advancing towards their point of entry.

 

13:20 Main hall


"I think I've lost a pip? damn!"

Kathryn Janeway was not in the mood for errors today, as minor as it was. This was a ceremony of the utmost importance, and she should have been immaculately turned out, as a Starfleet representative. However, already this morning she had managed to spill coffee on her dress uniform, as well as an unpleasant incident whereby the sonic shower had made her hair do a strange "fuzzy thing", as Chakotay had so kindly put it. Her comment was directed at a somewhat overexcited Neelix. It would be the first of many expletives that day, she was sure of it.

"Not to worry, captain," he laughed teasingly, "just demote ensign Kim, and problem solved!"

A low chuckle escaped her mouth before she could stop herself, and she gave a large grin at the Talaxian's morale-boosting efforts.

"I may just do that." she laughed, quirking her eyebrow.

"You're nervous about the ceremony?" he enquired.

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm sorry captain, you just seem? edgy."

"I can assure you," she grinned, "I'll feel much better when I find that damned?"

"-Here it is, captain," said Seven, holding up the small shiny button, "it was lying underneath your seat."

"Well there's one thing that's gone right today. Could you give me a hand with that, Seven?"

"Certainly, captain." she offered quickly.

Kathryn lifted her chin to allow the young woman access to her uniform. She allowed her eyes to drift down slowly to watch Seven's look of concentration as she fastened the pip to the chest of the garment, and quickly glanced away with embarrassment when Seven's ice-blue eyes rose to meet hers. Neelix noticed the exchange with interest, as a creeping flush covered not only Kathryn's throat and cheeks, but also Seven's? Very interesting. He felt the beginnings of a guilty smile, which he quickly beat down with a resolve face. Kathryn leaned over to him.

"Borg efficiency," she muttered in explanation, "I can never fasten those things."

"Of course." he smirked.

"Chakotay, when exactly is the ceremony due to begin?" she asked impatiently.

A small, bookish looking young Veyjon walked from the adjoining door of the Estje's private room at the back of the hall. He shuffled nervously to the speaking point, a wooden stand much like those seen in twentieth century Earth courtrooms. After clearing his throat with an audible squeak, he addressed the people in the room.

"I am sent to inform you that the ceremony will begin slightly later than anticipated. Your future Estje apologises, stating that she must speak to her chief senator before the ceremony begins."

"I guess there's my answer." Kathryn grumbled.

"Isn't it exciting?" Neelix enthused, "I've never been to a coronation before. It's all so grand!"

It truly was, as the huge hall towered 50 feet above them like an ancient earth cathedral, the ceiling decorated with ornate designs, most of them appearing to be large portraits of past leaders with opalescent patterns running between them. At the far end of the hall lay an intricately carved wooden throne surrounded by green carpet, alongside a tall stone statue of a horse-like creature with six tails, stood majestically on it's hind legs and reaching out as if it could touch the stars without any real effort. Rows of seats ran up every wall diagonally, with a long stretch of an aisle down the centre, also fitted with the same luxurious green carpet and lined with guards holding elaborate-looking wind instruments. It reminded Kathryn of the valleys she had seen back home. She mentally shook off the images of lush greenery on her home planet. Everything reminded her of Earth, and it probably wasn't something she should encourage.

"It's certainly lucky that we found such gracious hosts, especially since we needed supplies," smiled Chakotay, "I'm amazed they had time for us, let alone invited us here."

"They've certainly been hospitable," muttered Kathryn, unenthusiastically, "it's just a shame they can't show that level of respect to their own kind."

"You mean the T'Hemar?" whispered Chakotay "They're not?"

Kathryn lowered her own voice in response.

"?When we arrived, Chakotay, the Veyjon requested that the Doctor tend to the needs of several sick people in return for our supplies."

"I know that. What's your point?"

"Last night, on our way back to Voyager, Seven and I found a T'Hemar who had been badly beaten. She could barely speak," She continued, visibly agitated, "we took her to sickbay, and when the Doctor examined her he found her physiology to be exactly the same as the Veyjon he had treated."

"They're the same species?" he whispered in disbelief.

"Yes. It's very much like a situation on Earth, up until the twentieth century. Black and white humans were completely segregated until the twentieth century, but the conflicts between black and white didn't actually disappear until the late twenty-second century."

"I've read about that. So you're saying that these people are servants, because of their colour?"

"No, Chakotay. I'm saying that they're slaves, because of their colour."

"Colour is irrelevant." Chipped in Seven, who had listened in on their conversation, "I find this 'segregation' to be an inefficient use of energy. What is its purpose?"

Kathryn smiled softly. This obviously annoyed Seven as much as her.

"I wish I knew, Seven. Another thing that he found was that the male and female gender of this planet is determined only by markings on the chest and back. The sex organs are the same in either gender."

The others all suddenly focused their full attention on the captain.

"If that's the case, what is the point of having both genders?" Neelix enquired. "The males look male, and the females look feminine? but what's the necessity for both if the gender is, essentially, the same?"

"I'm not sure, Neelix. My theory at the moment is that they're in some advanced stage of evolution, meaning that eventually they will become the same in absolute totality."

"Sounds bizarre." Mumbled Chakotay, earning himself an icy glare from Kathryn.

Seven looked pleased with the logic behind this evolutionary development. Glancing around the room, it became apparent to her that there were many mixtures of partners sat waiting for the ceremony to begin. Nobody seemed to have a problem with the same-sex relationships evident, or indeed the heterosexual partnerships. Her lips played into a discreet smile before she turned to correct Chakotay's comment.

"You are incorrect, commander. The merging of gender is an efficient development."

Kathryn glanced over in slack-jawed amazement. Seven of Nine possibly advocating same-sex relationships was not something she had expected. Before she realised her mouth was even moving, she was encouraging the young Borg to elaborate.

"How so, Seven?"

The blonde felt a rush of pride in having garnered such a reaction from the captain. She took a moment to arrange her words satisfactorily, hiding the pause behind an indulgent quirk of her ocular implant. Kathryn smiled as she opened her mouth to reply.