SYMBOLS

CHAPTER 33

Throughout the day, Chakotay watched the sun shift in the sky. He studied its course to calculate how many hours he'd actually spent on the tower. So far the watch had been uneventful, something for which he was grateful.

"Anyone hungry?" the gaunt-faced guard asked, breaking the long silence. The guards on the tower hadn't said anything for hours. Chakotay listened to the meaningless grunts they produced in response to the question, before he made the same guttural sound.

The guard eventually moved away from his post. He walked to one side of the turret, raised his arms and propelled himself forward. Jumping down, he landed on the adjoining wall that encapsulated the Anawin City. He continued his footsteps for a few more meters. Chakotay saw the guard lift open a hatch on top of the wall and begin to disappear inside it.

Chakotay felt an overwhelming desire to follow him. Without thinking, he released his tight hold on the phaser cannon in front, allowing the weapon to drop slightly. The other guards turned at the unexpected movement.

"Something wrong?" the guard covering the far west sector called out.

Chakotay shook his head and reclaimed his weapon.

"Do you want to take a break too? Just make it quick," the same guard shouted again.

"Thanks," Chakotay yelled back, with just a little too much eagerness, he later thought, as he hurriedly followed in the footsteps of the gaunt-faced guard.

Chakotay jumped down onto the neighboring wall and lifted up the hatch, as he'd seen the other guard do. Then he began his descent down the long, straight flight of stairs inside the wall. He walked carefully as he clung to the stone wall beside him, until eventually the hatch banged shut above his head, leaving him with only a small crack of light to guide his footsteps.

***

High Councilor Zeron walked down the last few stairs, turned the key in the lock and pried open the solid wooden door. It had been a long time since he'd last come here. He increased the illumination and walked around the facility. Everything was dust coated and smelt stale. He smeared his fingers over one of the glass cases that lined the wall and the surface became transparent. Inside, he saw the familiar preserved body of number sixteen. The individual still stared ahead with the same fixed gaze he'd worn for almost a century. Zeron smiled at the image. As a child, he'd been frightened of all the preserved bodies, afraid they might come back from the dead on the one day he was walking around the halls of the museum.

He moved on to another glass case and wiped away the thick layer of dust that coated the outside.

"Number Fourteen," Zeron spoke aloud. "You were always my favorite."

He looked straight ahead at the female that seemed to stare back at him. Her dark brown eyes were wide open. Zeron scrubbed the glass near her face and moved in for a closer look. The female had short, black hair that was pulled back behind her pointed ears. Zeron ran his fingers over the glass following the shape of her upswept eyebrows. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what her skin might have felt like when it was warm.

"Surely it's not possible," he whispered. He pressed his face up against the glass, while his fingers traced the faint V-shaped ridge on the woman's forehead. His breathing was ragged and the glass began to fog.

Slowly he turned away. He deactivated the forcefield around the scattered remnants and circled the wreckage of the once gallant Romulan science vessel, again wiping away copious amounts of dust.

Zeron recalled that several renowned Anawin scientists had worked hard to try and reassemble all the damaged bits, once they had transported the ship's largest components to their new location in the museum. Yet he wondered whether they had actually come close to the original form at all as he peered through a huge gaping hole in the buckled hull.