Part three
To part two

---

The next day Chakotay saw the battered little book still sitting on the galley table and thought, Damn. You said you'd read that. Do it before you go to her produce stand.

So he had to read it that night. Supper with Paris and a stroll around the neighborhood--it seemed to be hose-out-the-bar night, so he tread carefully. Then a little round with the punching bag and a shower and--

And then he couldn't avoid the damned book any longer.

He broke out the flask of Ahaskan whisky and settled in to skim.

The book was actually ghastlier than he'd imagined. Yes, it was an education in Shiuntan culture; and, yes, according to the note at the beginning, the stories were "founded on fact." But it was flowery and sentimental, and it made him ... queasy. Submission was fetishized, and so was anal sex and young men who hadn't experienced it; and the most hectic scenes in each story played up the possibility that the trembling young man would have that damned veil ripped from his face by the villain. The young men's lovers were all thoughtful and attentive--even in the rape scenes. And all the young men were "beautiful as the moon's shadow" and "ripe for love's touch." And passive as hell. This one's lover "expressed his admiration upon the young man's body"--an unfortunate phrase if ever there was one--and that one's husband "proved his passion again and again in the arms of his beloved." Occasionally the young man seemed to make an effort, as he and his lover "expressed their regard for each other until the sky grew light" or "gave proof of their devotion as the hours passed." These prissily vague Victorian phrases apparently were the much-vaunted sex scenes that so flustered the young Shiunta, who evidently found them highly satisfying; they were on the most well-thumbed pages in the book.

Six stories; six submissive young men; six valiant lovers--usually not their husbands. The first story involved a young man who was, the book coyly pointed out, "his father's dearest treasure." Treasure enough: when the family couldn't pay the taxes to the rapacious local lord, he accepted the young man instead; and here Chakotay learned what happened at a "veiling." The young man's family hosted a party, during which the husband-to-be was invited into another room--"When the young man's father beckoned, there was a shout of joy as the lord entered the room, though many a mouth was bitter with envy, that such a treasure would be his alone"--where his prize had been stripped for inspection: "He circled the Treasure again and again, so taken with his beauty that he could not speak, while the young man flushed and trembled." Satisfied with what he was getting, the lord handed over a veil--"rich and costly"--and the young man dressed, and veiled himself, and was led by the lord into the party, here to stand silently, gazing at the floor and blushing, as the celebration progressed around him. This seemed to be the first time the pel't'kh-to-be wore a veil: "At the first brush of a veil on his cheek, the Treasure flushed and then paled and stood as straight and steady as his lord could desire."

Disaster struck after the wedding ceremony, which seemed to consist of the husband going to the parents' house to fetch his new spouse. On the way home, the husband's carriage was stopped by the local outlaw, who saw a chance to get even with the unpopular lord and dragged the young man into a nearby thicket for ... well, rape, actually. The rapist was, of course, so taken with the young man's beauty, that he labored to make it more a seduction, and "the Treasure learned the delights of love at the outlaw's gentle hands" before being returned to his outraged husband, who after they got home refused to consummate the marriage (being first was hugely important in these stories), preferring to keep the young man locked away on the top floor of the mansion. Here the lonely young man was found one night by the lovestruck, burgling outlaw, and they "expressed their delight in one another again and again" before escaping into the forest, where--well, there was a lot more delight expressed under trees, beside brooks, in meadows....

The rest of the story involved the outlaw being captured by the husband; and the young man nobly exchanging himself for the outlaw's freedom; and a dandy sword fight between the husband and the outlaw, who killed him and then revealed that he himself was the true heir to the lord's estate, which the husband had stolen. And after a proper period of mourning and another overwrought veiling and wedding, "again and again did the former outlaw lawfully possess himself of a Treasure more valuable than any other he had--"

Chakotay hastily turned the page, gulped some whisky, and pressed on.

There was the outlaw leader whose band attacked a caravan, murdering everyone except a veiled young man journeying to his fiance. The leader claimed him as plunder and took him into the woods, where the young man would not speak to or even look at him, "for the outlaw," the book panted, "was not yet his lawful lord." So the outlaw slowly stripped the young man of everything but his veil (much description of smooth skin and of whimpers of protest), liked what he saw (much description of uneven breathing), and stripped the veil off, too: "And the young man trembled and gasped as the lustful outlaw circled him again and again. Such was his beauty that he seemed to the outlaw to shine like a bright star in the shadow of the trees, and such was his modesty that pride and love surged within the outlaw's heart, and he determined to afford the Forest Star the dignities of marriage." So he handed back the veil for the startled young man to put on and dragged him--naked except for the veil--to the nearby clearing where the outlaw band was celebrating its victory. "This," he announced, "I am marrying." A cheer from the other outlaws, and the leader dragged the young man back into the darkening woods, "where he learned his new duties," the book twittered, "on the mossy forest floor that was the marriage bed. And thus as the night passed did the Forest Star learn the delights of obedience to his new lord before the light of morning allowed him to see his master's face for the first time--" Ah, yes! Chakotay thought sourly, the "dignities of marriage." "--And many happy years did the Star enchant his lord and comfort him in the long hours of night." And not a word more about the jilted fiance.

There was the handsome warrior rogue who fell in love with the portrait of a young prince and rode across the kingdom to find him, ignoring the eager young shepherds and lusty inn-keepers' sons he habitually seduced and keeping himself chaste, on principle. ("The first with which he had experience," the book noted slyly.) Near the prince's palace, he was distracted by the sight of the prince himself, bathing in a nearby lake. Halted on the lake shore by the prince's guards, the rogue gazed long at the startled young prince and then announced himself as a suitor before stripping and allowing the thunderstruck prince to see what he'd be gaining by the bargain. The prince "flushed and grew sweetly dizzy" at the sight and at the rogue's growl that "A man would sack an empire for you, child;" and then dropped his gaze and "allowed himself to be led from the water by his new master."

For reasons unclear, the queen (the king was her pel't'kh) agreed to the marriage. But as the rogue was about to leave the wedding feast and bed the prince, word came that the kingdom had been invaded; so instead he joined the queen as she rode out at the head of her soldiers. The honeymoon was put on hold for several months, as the rogue and the queen led the army against the invaders; the prince waited demurely in his bedchamber, since tradition didn't allow him leave it until the marriage had been consummated. Finally, the invading force, hemmed in on all sides, invaded the palace itself; and the palace guards mounted a futile defence outside the prince's bedroom. The prince was on the verge of being raped by the invading leader (who was villainously reaching for the prince's veil), when the rogue fought his way into the room; and there was a dandy sword fight between the leader and the rogue, who prevailed and then "taught his beloved the sweet duties of the marriage bed"--presumably after the bodies had been removed.

There was the handsome young commander forced to surrender during one of the many wars Chakotay had read about in the history of the Empire. To earn his soldiers' freedom, he surrendered himself in the winning commander's bed and discovered that he enjoyed the surrendering part enough to become the other man's pel't'kh. ("And many strategies did he shape," the book chirped, "in order to lose again and again to his lord husband, battles well lost, though truthfully never lost at all." Shakespeare, Chakotay thought wryly, had nothing on this guy.)

There was the prince of a small kingdom veiled and sent as a bribe to the ruler of a large kingdom in order to forestall an invasion. Along the way, he and his bodyguard fell chastely in love--astonishing, given that they couldn't exchange a word. Masochistically, the bodyguard hid himself in the bedchamber where the prince and the ruler would consummate the marriage and thus was on hand when the ruler fell drunkenly asleep on the bed before said consummation. Unable to wake his new husband, the prince spoke at last to his bodyguard--whom he was bizarrely unsurprised to find lurking in his bedroom--pointing out that some consummating needed to be evident for the marriage to be legal and commanding the bodyguard to do it, for the good of the small kingdom. The intelligent bodyguard didn't need to be commanded twice; and the prince "learned the pleasures of obedience to his lord" beside the snoring ruler.

Bad turned worse in the next months, as the ruler made brutally clear his preference for bed partners who weren't the prince and refused to touch his new spouse. Then the bodyguard was accused of being a traitor and escaped into the nearby forest ahead of an execution. Eventually the ruler decided not to wait for his in-laws' deaths to inherit the little kingdom. Before leading an invasion, he declared the prince an adulterer--not aware that it was the truth. The prince was bound and taken into the forest to be executed, apparently in keeping with tradition. Also in keeping with tradition, the executioner decided to enjoy the pleasures of the prince first ("As the beloved has defiled his lord's bed," the book said primly, "so is he defiled by those acting in place of his lord."), stripped him (much description of smooth skin and of trembling prince and of soft cries of protest), and was villainously reaching for the prince's veil when the bodyguard appeared; and there was a dandy sword fight between the executioner and the bodyguard, over the naked, bound body of the prince. Victorious, the bodyguard carried the prince into the forest (more description of trembling prince), where that night they exchanged "country vows" and the prince "again and again acceeded to the passions of his new lord, who was the only lord there had ever been in his arms and in his heart."

Eventually the bodyguard collected a small army that harried the ruler's forces, until the small kingdom was regained; then the army invaded the large kingdom and took that as well, putting the ex-bodyguard on the throne. "And thus the bed on which they experienced pleasure of each other in secret," the book simpered, "became the bed on which they expressed their regard for each other night after night so joyously that those within hearing flushed with delight." Or, Chakotay thought, with SOMETHING.

Finally, there was the warrior nicknamed "the Bright One" who fought the leader of an invading army, until he "looked into the other's eyes and knew his master"--and surrendered both his sword and himself to the surprised leader. The intelligent leader didn't need to be surrendered to twice; and he had the young man stripped (much description of flushed skin and of well-muscled body) and taken to his tent (much description of the envy of the leader's guards), where that night they "experienced the delights one man can give another." The leader apparently thought that would be the end of it; but when the Bright One refused to leave, the leader was persuadable; and eventually they were inseparable. The leader often was taken aback at the Bright One's deference and demands: "He did not expect to be so obeyed and so enslaved," the book bleated. "He determined often to put aside his new companion and as often found that determination defeated by the delights of love." And, probably, by practicality: the young man knew more about the political and cultural territory than the leader seemed to, and "teasingly, lovingly did the Bright One advise his lord, as lovingly, meekly did he learn the ways of his lord's pleasures."

The leader was charismatic and bumbling, socially awkward and apparently illiterate, skilled only at fighting and at persuading. And at leading: men did the improbable at his command. Army after army surrendered, to merge into his forces, and-- Here Chakotay felt his scalp tingle. --planet after planet came under his rule. "Thus it is," the book bleated, "that this man of no tribe, from nothing became the Conqueror, ruler of as great an Empire as ever was and ever will be known in the Universe; and all aided by his beloved; and thus can men do great deeds, with the help of those who are beloved by them and are obedient to them and also to the demands of love."

Good god. Chakotay stared at the last page of the book. It hadn't occurred to him that the Companion mentioned in that children's textbook had been another soldier. He riffled through the pages, rereading a scene or two: the Bright One advising the Conqueror during breaks in the negotiation of a pivotal alliance; the two men in bed, composing speeches together after lovemaking; the young man teaching the Conqueror his people's military tactics and making himself into a walking reference about the cultures on the planets that the Conqueror wished to invade. Useful guy.

The rest, though-- How could a soldier turn himself into a sex slave? The Conqueror--that Chakoty could understand. Proudly leading his new bed partner--naked and chained--in a triumphal march into the capitol. Coming to relish the young man's refusal to look at or speak to another man. The desire to possess someone completely--Chakotay could understand the impulse. And, he could understand giving in to the wishes of a lover. He'd done some embarrassing and stupid things because of love: passion could make you malleable. But there were limits. Mutating from a seasoned warrior into a simpering concubine, because you thought you'd found your true love--that was-- Even if it put you in the lap of power (literally, Chakotay thought with a grin), was it worth erasing your sense of self?

He put the book into the basket he took shopping and made ready for bed. If this was the kind of love story the young Shiunta man was raised on, no wonder he was such a flighty sexpot. Everything that theoretically made a good pel't'kh laid out--"His beauty was magnified tenfold by that graceful submission and heartfelt obedience to his husband which are, indeed, the brightest charms of the beloved"--along with warnings about what happened to a bad submissive: "As the beloved has defiled his lord's bed, so is he defiled by those acting in place of his lord." (Though that passage was on the most heavily handled page in the book, which didn't bode well for its effectiveness as a warning against adultery; the young Shiunta couldn't be the only submissive with rape fantasies.) The latent effect of this kind of upbringing even on an experienced soldier could be intense. And ... creepy.

Well, Chakotay reminded himself as he slipped into bed, you DID learn how that young Shiunta expects you to act. 'Graceful submission and heartfelt obedience'--that's supposed to be YOU. He grinned ruefully into the darkness. Obedience to Paris--wouldn't he just love that. Chakotay would never hear the end of it.

Still-- Chakotay could pretend the submission and fake the obedience, to keep the young man comfortable when they were together. He could act the proper pel't'kh.

And do every damn thing in his power to ensure that Paris never found out about it.

~ ~ ~

"--but I don't feel like I'm doing anything: just tapping on glass. Now, knobs would make it feel like I'm actually flying the ship."

"Oh, yeah," said Chakotay. "And when you accidentally get slammed against the Conn, those knobs would do a damn good job of cracking your skull." Besides, the deft ballet of Paris's hands on the Conn was one lovely thing to watch--though Paris didn't need to hear that.

Paris pursed his lips in concentration. "Maybe smaller knobs--"

"Just big enough to take your eye out--"

"Something there to manipulate--"

Hmm. "Not necessarily that big--"

"Just even a little ... slider--"

Something that flowed--that could become dense enough to make a small button or slider, and then flatten again--some sort of gel. Just under the tripolymer coating, so the navigator could feel it. Would need to be conductive; and maybe the underlying sensor matrix could be boosted--

Chakotay blinked; and the familiar din of the inmates' mess seemed suddenly to flood into his ears. Paris had the slightly idiotic expression of someone thinking hard; and Chakotay realized that they'd been sitting there, frozen, staring into each other's eyes as they worked through the problem individually. From a distance they'd probably looked like lovers so besotted with each other that they'd blocked out the rest of the world.

"I'm thinking a bio-neural gel," Chakotay said.

Paris blinked at him. "Under the coating?"

"Except, it wouldn't condense to make the sliders--maybe if you mixed something in?"

"I was thinking microscopic pellets as part of the matrix--"

"But then you'd have interference--"

"Maybe pellets in a bio-neural gel--that would take care of the conductivity problem. And reprogram the transducer--"

Had meditation, Chakotay wondered as he watched Paris mutter through the problem, ever made him looked this relaxed and centered? Maybe it had: it allowed him to focus on his family, his relationships--the things that made him. But, Paris.... Family was problematic for the man who'd been disowned by his father; and relationships-- Well, Paris was either fucking somebody or fighting somebody. The minutiae of creation--the smell of a Marseilles bar or the configuration of a shuttle cockpit--that was what engrossed him, took him out of whatever dark pit of the soul he'd dug for himself.

"--if you'd just display everything on the shuttle viewscreen."

"Then it wouldn't be transparent," Chakotay said. He liked looking through a window.

"A clear matrix," Paris said. "You could do it. Transparent displays. Just barely there. At the bottom of the screen. Just the major systems." His face shone. "Ghostly images--it would look really cool."

Cool. Paris was inspired, if he was spouting ancient dialects. Chakotay grinned and opened his mouth to deliver some sarcasm--

"You are finished eating!" The Wieong'than guard was standing right over Paris, glaring down at him. "You are just sitting here, conversing with your wife, as if this were a place of pleasure!"

Damn. Chakotay looked around; realized that the room had emptied. Saw the blood drain from Paris's face. He couldn't let Paris be beaten again.

"I'm sorry, sir!" Chakotay yipped. His heart was pounding; agitation was surprisingly easy to mimic. "Please, sir! I-- I'm lonely for my husband, sir." Paris was staring at him, frozen in apprehension. "I made him sit and talk with me--I told him that if he didn't, I would--" Uh-- "I told him that I'd find a man who wasn't in prison, since he doesn't pay me attention. It's my fault, sir. I made him. Please don't be angry, sir! I was just being--"

The guard's disgusted glare at Chakotay shut him up. Good. The guard was so fed up with Chakotay that Paris probably was safe.

"I'd want to be in prison, too," the guard said to Paris, "if I had to listen to that babble. You signed a marriage contract!" the guard roared at Chakotay. "He is your HUSBAND! A good wife doesn't threaten to go off with another man just because her husband can't be with her for a few months!"

Chakotay bowed his head and tried to look meek. He could see Paris's hand on the table; it was shaking. Damn.

"Come. It's time to go back." The guard's voice was warmer, and Chakotay was suddenly limp with relief. He looked up to see Paris shakily pushing himself out of his chair. He crooked a shadow of a grin at Chakotay.

"You should give her a good beating once you can have your conjugal visits," the guard went on. "Let me show you how to beat someone properly with the flat of your hand--it doesn't do any lasting damage, but a wife doesn't forget it soon--" The door closed on Paris's reply.

Whew. Two guards were left; Chakotay kept his head down as he shoved the remains of their breakfast into the basket. Disarming the enemy by humiliating yourself wasn't one of the tactics taught at the Academy, but sometimes it worked. He glanced at the guards and caught their glares of disapproval. Just what he needed: a reputation as a nagging and adulterous wife. But getting Paris out of another beating was worth any price in personal pride.

He bowed his head and tried to look meek and ashamed as he left--not all that difficult. Cheer up, he told himself ruefully. You're likely to have plenty more opportunities to humiliate yourself. PLENTY more.

~ ~ ~

But did they all have to come the same day? At the produce stand, the young Shiunta was sulkily sorting through a pile of eorda beans; he brightened at the sound of Chakotay's voice, dropped the beans, and dusted his hands--

"You not finished!" the old fruit seller shouted at him. "Those beans won't sort themselves! Your husband tell me, 'He will help you if you take him in while I am in prison.' He ashamed if he know how lazy you are!" She seemed genuinely angry; Chakotay must have come in at the end of some donnybrook.

The Shiunta man glared and looked petulant. Some hot words were apparently about to be exchanged, when, "I could help," Chakotay suggested mildly; and both combatants studied him for a minute.

"Oh, he not going to get anything done at all," the old woman said. "You help, and I give you some of that fruit your husband likes."

Unfortunately, helping the young man meant sitting beside him on the small bench, which allowed the Shiunta to snuggle against Chakotay. Warm and willing body.... And-- Was he wearing perfume? Whatever that fragrance was, it mingled with the scent of his skin in a way that was ... distracting. Focus on the beans, Commander.

"I have your book," Chakotay said, handing it to him.

The young man smiled and riffled through it, pausing to simper over a page when he glanced up at the glaring fruit seller and hastily tucked the book down the front of his tunic. "Wasn't it wonderful?" he said dreamily. "So romantic! What was your favorite story?"

Uh-- "What's yours?" Chakotay said.

"Ah!" The young man's eyes closed in ecstasy. "The one about the poor young man who has to marry the lord--that one is very romantic! When the outlaw takes him into the bushes-- And then breaks into the house to find him--" He sighed happily and dropped his head onto Chakotay's shoulder. "And they fuck; and then his husband almost rapes him--" Contented sigh.

Chakotay hid a smile. "What about the Conqueror and the Bright One?" he asked. "They're pretty interesting."

The young man snorted. "Too old. Old people aren't romantic."

Gee--thanks. "Well, I think they can be," Chakotay said. "It was pretty interesting, the way the Conqueror learned from his friend--"

The young man made a dismissive gesture with one of the bean pods. "Too old. And they talked too much. Who wants to read about talking, when you can read about fucking?" He noticed the fruit seller's glare and hastily dropped the bean into the waste pile.

Chakotay hid a grin. Migod, didn't the man think about anything but sex? Then he glanced at the young man and thought, Of course not. How old must he be--twenty? At twenty YOU never thought about anything but sex and Starfleet. Usually at the same time.

The Shiunta dutifully pelted the waste pile with bean pods until the fruit seller turned to serve a customer; then he snuggled against Chakotay and said, languidly, "Didn't you like the one where the prince's bodyguard has to fuck him?" His hand was on Chakotay's thigh. "Where his husband is asleep. Right beside them--" The hand started to stroke. "And then the prince is almost raped, but his true love rescues him--" His breathing was unsteady.

Chakotay grabbed the hand, firmly. "Please don't." Oh, damn--he was going to laugh in a minute. "My people don't-- We don't ... touch each other that way. In public."

The young man blinked at him and pouted, emphasizing the lushness of his mouth. "It's not wrong if I touch you. Only if another husband touches you! Then it's adultery, and--" He flushed, and his eyes unfocused. "--and anyone can fuck you--anyone, and your husband lets them--"

"And then you're executed," Chakotay said briskly. "And, my people still don't touch each other that way in public."

The young man gave him a calculating look and then smiled teasingly. "You are shy," he said, his eyes warm--and positively flirtatious, "because you think your husband won't want you if you are not ripe for him. But husbands always think that." He waved his hand dismissively, the worldly seducer. "If I give you pleasure, that doesn't mean that you won't be ready for him later. When you are naked with each other, you will still be eager for the delights of his penis. And if you don't tell him, how will he know?"

Oh, Chakotay could see how this guy could be trouble: the bright eyes; the full mouth; the quick brush of fingertips on Chakotay's arm, on his thigh, on his hand. The intoxicating scent of that warm body snuggled against him. The sweetness and desire in the bright face. The man was a walking wet dream.

"I would know," Chakotay said gently and firmly. "And ... my husband would know. Because I would tell him."

This was, alas, not the deterrent he was hoping for, because the young man's smile turned sly. "Husbands like to hear all about--"

"Not mine," Chakotay said firmly.

Oh, damn: the pout again; and a little forlorn sigh that would have been irresistible in other circumstances. But the young man was disengaging himself with evident reluctance, when--

"You not going to have sex with him tonight!" the fruit seller broke in. "He always talking about fucking his friend," she explained to several customers, who eyed Chakotay with sudden interest.

Oh, good: the frosting on the cake of embarrassment. Caught between laughter and humiliation, Chakotay struggled to keep a straight face.

The Shiunta scowled and threw bean pods at the waste pile with an air of self-righteous martyrdom.

Escape seemed impossible, but he achieved it at last. Chakotay smiled to himself as he went back to the shuttle with the promised fruit: Paris would love this story. But he was never going to hear it. Ever.

That didn't mean there weren't other things for them to discuss.

"So," Chakotay said genially, laying out that night's supper, "when we finally have our conjugal visit, will I have to duck?"

Paris blinked--he'd been looking everywhere but at Chakotay. Then he flushed. "It's not your head I'm supposed to aim at." He eyed Chakotay warily.

That was-- Chakotay startled laughing. Hard on the heels of the oversexed young Shiunta, this was just ... overkill.

Paris relaxed visibly and leaned in. "I have to thank you," he murmured. "That guard is like my new best friend. I think he has marriage troubles."

"Can't imagine why," Chakotay said with a snort, "given his approach to relationships."

He cast a critical eye over the food spread out on the counter: blanched eorda pods and the dip he'd spent an hour and a half looking for in the replicator database, and the barbecued kalafhi and the potato salad; and, was something missing? Oh, yes, the cornbread. And the coffee.

Paris was grinning at him over the rim of his coffee cup. "I don't know," he said, "Harry sometimes likes a good, hard spank--"

"I don't need to hear about Ensign Kim's sexual proclivities," Chakotay said briskly. Besides, he already knew; it was in Kim's personnel file. He fixed Paris with a stern look. "Am I going to spend our entire marriage hearing about your conquests?"

Paris chuckled. "Jealous?"

"Alarmed," Chakotay growled; and Paris laughed until suddenly he froze with a hiss: moved wrong, apparently, and aggravated some bruised muscle in his back. Shit.

"I'm fine," Tom said firmly. He glared when Chakotay opened his mouth to ask a perfectly innocent and automatic question. "Really. I'm fine. The medicine is--the medicine is working great."

Chakotay didn't push it: just sipped his coffee and tried not to think about how good it would feel to pound on whoever it was who punished prisoners. And whoever ordered the punishment. And whoever came up with the damn rules. And--

"You know, the advantage," Tom said around a mouthful of kalafhi, "of me still being in quarantine is that I get to hear all kinds of fresh information."

Chakotay dragged his mind back to the conversation. "Like?"

"Like the fact that the Xanthiskans have overthrown their dictator, and civil war has broken out. And, a fleet of renegade shuttles is preying on everything that moves in the Eilossan system."

"'Renegade shuttles?'"

"Leftovers from somebody's grab for power. Gave artificial intelligence to a fleet of armed shuttles and sent them out to fight. Except they decided not to come back; and now they're prowling the system, attacking everything that moves. Already destroyed a small starliner and about a dozen merchant ships. Killed everybody on board."

Damn. "Why didn't the ones who built them hunt them down?"

Paris's mouth quirked in a humorless grin. "Wiped themselves out. Completely destroyed all life on the planet."

Son of a-- Chakotay realized that he was gaping, shut his mouth. But couldn't get rid of the image of a dead planet, a fleet of murderous ships--all so someone could put his ass in the seat of power. Sadly fucking predictable.

"No dessert?" Paris said hopefully.

Fucking predictable. Chakotay reached into the basket.

"You made me pie?" Paris's eyes lit up. Predictable. "You made me cherry pie?"

"Yes," Chakotay said dryly. "I slaved all day over a hot replicator." He warmed at Paris's grin and watched him eat with an odd sense of contentment. A universe with murdering, power-hungry sons of bitches, he mused wryly, could also contain cherry pie and people delighted when somebody made it for them.

People still delighted several days later, when the pie was cheesecake and the fresh information included the impending veiling of the oldest prince of the Shiunta ruling house and the impending spring on the Great Continent on Rielkh, where winter lasted three years.

Three years-- "Do people live there?" Chakotay asked.

"No. But there's a lot of trade. People go live there once the thaw starts and harvest fruit and stuff to sell; stuff sells for a lot of money. Apparently "

It would. "We should go there," Chakotay said. Then, at Paris's surprised expression, he added, "Once you're out of here. If the winters last three years, so must the summers, right?"

Paris blinked. "I didn't-- I didn't think of that. I'm not really ... planning ahead. I mean, after tomorrow...."

What the hell was tomorrow? Then Chakotay did some math. "Yeah, but that's just--you know--moving to another part of the prison." Great going, lunkhead: you're supposed to be MARRIED to him; surely you could do a better job of remembering that he's about to leave quarantine. "That much closer to getting out of here." Make a special supper to celebrate-- "I've been thinking about what to bring for you, now that you can have possessions." Liar. "You know: paper, paints. Let me bring you some books. Adventure stories, Physics for Guys Who Didn't Really Do All That Well at Starfleet Academy--"

That got a laugh. "How to Bust Out of Prison," Paris suggested.

"Well, that probably wouldn't make it past the guards," Chakotay said with a grin.

"I want my cards back."

Chakotay busied himself packing the remains of supper. "Just don't let them catch you cheating."

Paris got that smug smile. "Do I ever?"

"Don't I remember something about B'Elanna and a black eye...?"

Paris flushed, but grinned impishly. "Strip poker doesn't count."

Strip-- With B'Elanna Torres. "Didn't anybody notice your death wish while you were at the Academy?"

Paris laughed. "You know the Academy: everybody there has a death wish."

"Yes, but B'Elanna. And strip poker...." Though the thought wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"And I didn't even need to cheat. The nakeder she gets, the worse she plays."

"I don't need to hear about Lieutenant Torres's private eccentricities." Besides, he already knew; K'tlk had done some unwise boasting after a night of cautious celebration of some Maquis victory. "Just think about what you'd like for supper tomorrow night."

Before he went back to the shuttle, he went to the Iushkan fruit seller's stand for some of the plum-looking things, for Paris's breakfast.

"My husband is getting out of quarantine tomorrow," he said to the young Shiunta as the old woman totaled his bill.

To Chakotay's dismay, the young man became positively sentimental. "Oh, you must be so happy!" he said. "It has been so long! Your bottom must be so excited!"

Ahhhhh-- "Sure!" Chakotay choked out.

"Huh!" the old woman said, elbowing the young man aside as she gave Chakotay the fruit and held out her hand for the money. "Not everyone's bottom gets as excited as yours," she said sourly; she must have had a trying day. "Not everybody always thinks about fucking like you do."

She tucked away Chakotay's money and was closing up for the night as he started back to the shuttle. The station's sun was dimming, and he could faintly hear the priests calling for the first prayer of the night.

Chakotay felt unexpectedly cheerful. Paris getting out of quarantine: he was that much closer to getting the hell out of prison. And he'd have more privileges, and his life would get easier: it was worth celebrating. And a bit of a relief to Chakotay: like the man said, he thought, it's not just the prisoner who does the time, it's the prisoner's family, too.

Your bottom must be-- Chakotay found himself grinning. Sometimes the Universal Translator didn't know what to do with local idioms and spat out gibberish--

Dawning horror froze him in midstep. Except this time. That was no gibberish; that was-- That was the sentimental young man reminding Chakotay of one of Paris's new privileges, one of the dubious joys of Chakotay's new life as a married man.

Conjugal visits. With Paris. Naked with each other, as the Shiunta man had put it. With Chakotay--now, what had the young man said that day?--oh, yes--eager for the delights of Paris's penis.

Not so eager, Chakotay thought. Not eager at all, especially since they weren't supposed to be enjoying the delights of either penis. But-- You're married, he thought with a sinking heart. You have to go through with it.

After all, it wasn't just the prisoner who did the time. It was the prisoner's pel't'kh, too.

[To part four]

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