“Congratulate me, Ruth, I have finally found somewhere you won’t follow me.”

Ruth sat up and brushed sand out of her hair. She had been lying on the beach, absorbed in sunlight and sea-sounds and hadn’t heard her friend’s approach.

“Congratulations, Daphne,” she said. “Where?”

Daffy threw herself down beside her. “I’m not sure I want to tell you. You might follow me.”

“I never follow you.”

“Starfleet. I’ve been accepted into the Academy.”

Ruth blinked, a sudden and unexpected sense of pain and loss overtaking her. “Are you crazy?” she heard herself explode. “You in Fleet? What in the name of God are you going to do in Fleet?!”

“I’m a chemist.”

“I thought Cal’s company offered you a job. Fleet’s full of herberts, for god’s sake!”

“Tell that to Kam and Gypsy and Cajun. They’re all in Fleet and they’re not herberts.”

“Not yet. Wait till the Academy gets through with them.”

“You’ve never even met them. And anyway, how do you know? You’ve never been to the Academy.”

“Daffy, Fleet means discipline, blind obedience, following orders… you couldn’t follow an order on your best day!”

“To get on a starship, I can. Besides, I thought you’d be glad.”

“To be rid of you? Daffy…. Why?”

Daffy sighed. “I want to practice my profession out where research means something. Alterra isn’t sending out any more explorers, all corporations are interested in is credits. I don’t want to teach, I want to do. So Starfleet’s all that’s left.” She paused. “Besides, I want to get off this planet.”

Ruth swallowed. “Is it because of David?” she asked. “You love him, he doesn’t love you so you want to run away from a bad situation by…”

“Don’t be a romantic,” Daffy snorted, but she turned away.

“Me? I’m not the one going off to explore the stars.”

“And if I were you, I wouldn’t talk about running away from bad situations.”

Ruth found herself laughing bitterly. “Why not? I’m an expert at it.”

Daffy ‘s eyes met Ruth’s, and for a moment, everything was shared and understood.

“Good luck, Daffy,” Ruth finally said quietly.

“And it’s you I’m running away from,” Daffy reminded her. “Don’t forget that.”

“Done.”

“Done. See you, Terror.”

“Goodbye, Daphne.”

“I don’t understand this love you have for technology!” Roger ranted angrily.

Ruth put down her wine glass and smiled tolerantly across the table at her Sevrinite acquaintance. “It’s convenient,” she said.

“It destroys! As an Antari, you must see that!”

Ruth blinked, continuing to smile.

“Antares doesn’t permit Federation technology to contaminate its culture!” Roger added triumphantly.

“Nonsense. We love computers.” Go away. Leave me alone. She’d been promised that he wouldn’t be at the party. She’d been told he was home sick with some inconsequential disease he refused to take medication for. He had apparently recovered – although she wasn’t sure. He might have a fever. But since he’s always bright-eyed and breathless with fanaticism, how can one tell?

“You are a traitor to your people!” he declared.

Ruth’s smile and tone turned icy. “Have I told you within the last ten minutes that my people are the faculty of Alterra University? I was born on a product of technology called an explorer ship.”

“Which killed your family!”

Ruth casually reached over and poured the rest of her wine down Roger’s tunic. He took no notice. “An ion storm destroyed the Blakely," she informed him, “a product of nature.” Roger opened his mouth. “Call me a herbert,” Ruth warned, “and I’ll break both your legs.”

He closed his mouth, gulped, then took a breath and continued. “I always thought Antares was the closest thing to Eden. Then I met you.”

“I didn’t mean to destroy your fantasy, dear,” she drawled.

“I thought if anyone would help us find Eden it would be the Antaris.”

“It doesn’t exist, Roger.”

“Someday Dr. Sevrin will find it and…”

“Then we’ll all be sorry. Sevrin is a looney, Roger. A real twitch.”

“Eden exists!”

“So go buy a boat and go looking for it.”

“And be shot down by a Fleet gunboat!”

“Depends on how far you get,” Ruth shrugged. “Eden is supposed to be somewhere in the Romulan Empire.”

“The so-called ‘romulans’ are a propaganda threat made up by Fleet to keep getting bigger and bigger budgets!”

“And they don’t take prisoners either. They exist, you twitch.”

“You ever seen one? Has anyone? No!” Ruth started to sigh, and Roger broke in, apparently forgetting her previous threat. “Herbert!”

She stomped on his foot. He didn’t’ seem to notice.

“They’re legends, ghosts in the minds of paranoid military…”

“Herberts,” Ruth finished for him.

“Yes!”

“Why must you pick on me, Roger? I’ve never done anything to you.”

“You won’t help me find Eden! Ruth, you should be One! You should hate the things that are happening to the worlds of the Federation. Instead, you revel in everything an Antari should hate!”

“I have doctorates in computers, physics, and marine biology. That isn’t reveling, that’s hard work.”

“Why bother? You don’t need those things!”

“It helps pass the time,” she rejoined with no little sarcasm.

“That you could spend searching for Eden!”

“Or flying butterfly kites, which is just as productive and mentally stimulating. Maybe more so. You need some sense to fly a butterfly kite.” She was past annoyance. Roger always provoked her past annoyance. She closed her eyes, counting to ten. “Look, if looking for Eden gives your life purpose, go right ahead. You’re doing it wrong, but don’t let that stop you.”

“Join us!”

“I have better things to do.”

"Like what?!”

“I’ll think of something, Roger.” She got up from the table and headed for the door, ignoring his cry of “herbert!”

Ted caught up with her about halfway across Cal’s living room. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the balcony. She stared out across what she was told was a magnificent view of Rio while Ted asked, “Roger being idealistic again?”

“It’s a disease, he can’t help himself,” she replied.

“You shouldn’t let him bother you.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Of course he does. Cal just invited him to watch you get annoyed.”

Ruth stomped her foot angrily, an ineffective gesture considering that she was barefoot, and whirled to face Ted. “He’s wrong!”

Ted’s sleepy eyes opened wide in surprise. “At least Roger believes in something. I don’t think that’s wrong,” he said thoughtfully. “He just wants to save the universe.”

“Oh yeah,” Ruth snorted, “save it by running away from it. Really intelligent.” Ted smiled significantly at her. “Don’t get heavy-handed with me, Mancini.”

His look turned satisfied. “That is why you get so annoyed with him, you know. He’s a mirror image.”

“He’s a schmuck.”

“Which doesn’t change the fact that he cares, while you try desperately not to.” She snarled, but Ted continued. “You’re a butterfly, of no practical value. I mean, that’s the image most people have.”

“But you know better,” she said sarcastically.

“No. But I think you’d be a lot happier if you stopped trying so hard and decided on doing something.”

“What is there to do?” she demanded. “That I haven’t already tried,” she added quickly.

“Grow up,” he suggested.

“Speaks the all-knowing nineteen year old.”

“It’s a matter of attitude.”

“You’re recruiting for your father the shrink, aren’t you?”

“I was thinking about mentioning it,” he admitted a little sheepishly.

“You’re a missionary, Theodore.”

“I just care about you…”

Ruth’s eyes suddenly lit up and a wide grin spread over her face. “Missionary! Perfect!”

“What?” Ted asked, startled.

“Your new needle, and you! I dub you Theodore Angelo – bet you didn’t know I knew that – Mancini, alias Basset… Missionary!”

He thought about it, looking more mournful by the second. “I’m not sure I like it.”

“It suits you perfectly. Let’s go up to the Clave and try it out.”

“Okay, Missionary it is,” he conceded. “Let’s go.”

Ruth hung around after telling a class full of music history students all about a Terran ethnic style known as blues. She was thorough and interesting as a teacher, but always wondered why anyone who hadn’t been raised to have an interest in ancient music would want to know about it. Her knowledge made her the specialist in this field, and she hated specialists. Her last name was Valley, and anyone who knew anything about Terran music of the past three hundred years knew about the Valley Collection. It was, to her, no big deal; just an old guitar and numerous music tapes and actual paper scores. They had been passed from generation to generation and she was the present proprietor. “It’s a great responsibility,” she muttered sourly as she picked up her guitar and began to play softly.

A few minutes later, Jim stuck his head in the door and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I work here.”

He strolled in and sat down opposite her. “This isn’t work. This is art.”

She put down the guitar and said seriously, “I’m no artist, Jimmy.”

He looked suspiciously at her. “You depressed?”

“Never.”

“Got a message for you.”

“Yeah?” she asked quickly. “Who from?”

“A Vulcan named Starq. He wants to meet with you.”

She sighed, disappointed without quite knowing why. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“Whatever happened to your friend with the violin?” Jim asked suddenly.

Ruth started, then scowled. “Terry? He went back to Indi.”

“Oh.” Jim was silent for a moment. “I see.”

No. Maybe. “Thanks for telling me about Starq.”

“Sorry.”

“Subject closed, Jim.”

“Okay.” There was another moment of awkward silence. “What were you telling the children today?” Jim enquired.

“Billie Holiday, mostly. You know, ‘God Bless The Child’ and all that.”

“Or ‘Ain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do’?”

Ruth stood, her guitar banging on the chair and stalked out of the music room.

Ted waited for her after class and they left the room together. The plan for the rest of the day was to head up to the Clave and work repairing the faulty shielding on Missionary. They were nearly to the transport booth when a man stepped in front of them and said, “May I have a word with you, Keheil?”

Ruth took a hissing breath that was nearly a gasp and stepped past the man. Ted saw that she has gone pale, and glanced quickly at the man. He was youngish but looked very serious and very annoyed. “Excuse us,” Ted said to him. The man ignored him and grabbed Ruth’s arm.

“Keheil, I must insist…”

Ruth whirled. “What!?” she demanded.

“I’m Dr. Eric Jackson. The one whose calls you keep neglecting to answer, Keheil.”

“My name,” she said slowly, “is Ruth Valley.”

“I know,” he told her. “I know all about you and your self-indulgent lifestyle.”

Ruth’s smile was slow and teasing, but her eyes were purple ice. “Oh, I doubt if you know all about it.”

“Enough to know that you’re wasting a life that doesn’t exactly belong to you,” he answered, not in the least affected by her attitude.

Her eyes widened in feigned surprise. “Really? Whose?”

“I’m sure the courgat had a name, but I'm not privy to what it was,” Jackson replied coldly.

Ruth went suddenly stiff. Ted eyed her warily. “Ruth, let’s go,” he murmured.

"Keheil ani Rosana said I should talk to you,” Jackson continued. “She seemed to think you would want to be of some help.”

Ruth shook herself. “Then she’s mistaken,” she said tightly. “And so are you.”

“You’re a Keheil,” Jackson insisted.

Ted couldn’t keep himself from asking. “What’s a keheil?”

“Antari Moon Priestess,” Jackson answered curtly. “I’m sure you’ve heard of them.” He was talking to Ruth.

“Ruth, you’re one of them?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Jackson said at the same time.

“How’d you get to be one of them?”

“Ted!”

“She was born with the potential, given the training, and survived past the age of fifteen. Very few but the Antaris themselves know exactly how the final test works, but it is a fact that Ruth Valley passed it. She is Keheil.”

“I’m not being provoked,” Ruth said calmly, and began to walk away. “Nice try, though,” she called over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jackson asked angrily.

“I don’t know. What’s wrong with you?” Ted returned, then hurried after Ruth.

He caught up with her as she was boarding the commuter moon shuttle. They found seats and were half-way to Port One before either of them spoke.

“He runs a clinic,” she answered his unspoken question. “His patients usually end up dead or plugged into machines on Jude. It isn’t that I don’t want to help. I’ve gone there a half a dozen times, but I can never make myself go inside.” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t do any good anyway. They’d see an Antari and think ‘great wonderful healer come to save us’ and I’d try and nothing would happen and then those people wouldn’t even have hope left. If you can’t depend on a Moon Priestess – silly translation of keheil – who can you depend on?”

“Then why didn’t you tell Dr. Jackson that instead of being bitchier than usual?”

“So he won’t bother me again. I don’t like people accusing me of being able to commit miracles,” she added bitterly.

“That’s a hell of a way to put it.”

“How would you like strangers popping up and demanding you save their lives?”

“Well, people do sort of expect that from Antaris. You all have names starting with ‘r’ and you’re all empaths. The fact that you’re a hybrid doesn’t stop people from expecting you to conform to the stereotype…”

“It hurts, okay!” Ruth broke in.

“How? Physically? Emotionally?”

Ruth nodded tightly.

“You mean you can do it?”

“Ted… I…” She swallowed hard. “I tried once. It didn’t work.”

“Who?”

She looked away and forcefully changed the subject. “We do not all have names starting with ‘r’.”

“Well, couldn’t you try again?”

“Ted!”

“Maybe you get better with practice,” he suggested.

“Thank you Keheil evan Isabella,” Ruth snarled back, smiling with all her teeth. “Besides, I promised my grandmother I wouldn’t.” She immediately looked as if she was sorry to have said it and told him fiercely, “Never mind.”

This time he heeded the warning. “So,” he said with forced brightness, “name one Antari whose name doesn’t begin with ‘r’.”

“Kath ani Kenil.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“ani what?”

“Shut up, Ted.”

Within a few hours, Antari naming had become a new game at the Clave. Ruth’s only comment was a sarcastic, “Cute,” to which someone added “ani Cuddly.” She excused herself and worked alone on Missionary and Spike for the rest of the day.

The only thing that really annoyed her was the fact that she felt she had to justify herself to Ted. She kept wanting to explain. She didn’t owe healing to anyone. She couldn’t save the universe. Not even a keheil could do that. How many times had Ara explained that? Ara… Don’t think about it! Yeah, Ted, I tried, She died quite melodramatically in her useless daughter’s arms. So much for my being one of them. Oh, I could try, Ted, and maybe get myself killed and leave those old people with nothing. Abba couldn’t handle that, and savta still hasn’t gotten over Rachel. I’ve got some responsibility to them, they’re the only family I’ve got. I promised her. She doesn’t want an Antari living in her house. Antaris scare her. And it’s her house and her world and I love her… It’s really not that much to ask. It isn’t! God! The man can be a missionary without saying a single word.

“I’m not happy with your shielding, That’s not a tapestry you’re flying.”

“Mensch, don’t nag, it’s adequate,” Missionary answered. "You did the best you could with what you had to work with.”

“It’ll do,” Barak broke in. “The race is in the belt, he isn’t going to have to worry about atmosphere out there.”

“Just lots of rocks,” Ruth sighed, but gave it up. “All right.”

“You taking Spike or Mensch?” Barak wanted to know.

“Mensch is fueled.”

“Then let’s go.”

Four hours later Barak was back, triumphant. Two hours after that when everyone was beginning to get more than worried, Mensch returned to the Clave, the fuel gauge resting on non-existant. Ruth climbed out of her needle, dazed, shaking. A crowd quickly surrounded her. She didn’t see anyone but Barak. “Ted’s gone – dead. He was blown…” she collapsed into his arms, trying to keep the tears back long enough to get the words out. “It was the Hunter. No myth. It was the Hunter.”

Goddess, what am I doing here?

Ruth lay alone on the moonlit beach that she had often shared with Ted and Daffy and Cobra and Terry… Alone. Terry had understood, but he couldn’t stay. Ted was destroyed, murdered. Daffy and Cobra had somewhere they wanted to be. They were the lucky ones, who knew what they wanted, who they were, where they belonged. I used to. Back when there was a Blakely. It fell apart, burned up so that not even ashes are left and I don’t know how to put it back together. I’m not Antari, I’m not Human – and that never used to bother me. Why should it? I couldn’t get more unique than Ruth Maxwell Valley ani Ramy. Long name and each part means something important. Ruth is a compromise, a perfectly good Israeli name and a perfectly good Rhiannol name – and a testament to the love my parents shared. Maxwell is savta’s maiden name. I always wondered about that. Why ‘maiden’? It was her father’s surname, but what does that have to do with ‘maiden?’ I guess I could ask somebody – and admit I don’t know something. Fat chance! Papa figured it was better than ‘Tova’. Ruth made a face. No, it isn’t. Valley; English Jews that changed their name from god knows what back when Jewish names weren’t popular and refused to change it back if they even remembered what it was when Jewish names were. Ani is Antari for ‘daughter,’ and Ramy, the person I’m the daughter of. The whole name’s a compromise – so why can’t I? Didn’t I used to be a hybrid? I don’t feel like one anymore. I feel empty. Zahara, God, I used to believe in You both – not the easiest adjustment, you must admit but I managed. Now? I don’t know if I believe in anything.

Z!

What?

Where the hell have you been?

I could ask you the same question.

Am I keheil?

Do you have a choice?

I’m alive, so I must be.

That’s generally how it works, ani Ramy.

But Ara… No, I don’t want to think about it!

No… think about it. Ramy was pregnant, badly burnt…

And so was I. I had to heal that before I could… I was too weak, I didn’t have the strength…

Maybe there was nothing you could have done.

How could there have been…?

You can’t save the universe.

But my mother…

Is a part of the universe, child. How long are you going to ignore a vow that says you have to try?

I’m all alone. What’s the point?

The point is you’ve been so busy proving yourself to everyone else that you forgot the most important person.

I have to prove it to myself. And the only way to do that is to do it. But…

But…?

I could die. Would I come back as a sauvrn?

Only if you refuse, ani Ramy.

But I could get killed, right? Ruth thought about that. So what’s the big deal there? So what’s wrong with a little death? I’d just come back as – who knows? Anything. So what’s wrong with that? I sound like Daffy. What if I come back as Daffy? Is that possible?

I doubt it, child, but you never know what you can do until you do it.

I’m beginning to suspect something, Z. I suspect that I have really screwed up. So how do I start putting myself back together?

Start by giving that nice Dr. Jackson a call.

I was afraid you were going to say that. Savta isn’t going to like it.

Stop using your grandparents as an excuse.

Stop being honest. I hate myself when I’m honest. Ruth paused. When I’m honest?

You don’t know what you can do until you do it. Dr. Jackson?

I’m going, I’m going.

Of all the aspects of his life, Starq found performance the most stimulating. His career as a diplomat gave him little chance to pursue his musical interest; therefore, when asked to bring his lyrette to a social function at the UNE Headquarters he readily complied. When he told this to the young Antari who had neglected to wear shoes to the affair, she replied, “They asked you, you came because you love to play and like the attention.”

“That is essentially what I said.”

“I’m very good at Vulcan talk,” she informed him with a bright smile. “I studied with an expert.”

Starq gave her a cold nod and moved away. She was most exasperating, and he did not understand why she had approached him in the first place. Inexplicably, she followed him

“You’re my first real in-the-flesh Vulcan, though,” she continued. “The rest I got from tapes. I went through a Vulcan stage a year or so ago; built a lyrette, read Surak and T’Phen, didn’t laugh for a week…”

Starq turned back to her. “Young woman, what do you wish of me?”

There was a mischievous gleam in her keva colored eyes. He had the distinct impression that she had intended to annoy him. “Play the lyrette,” she answered.

A most peculiar being. But since her request meshed with his own wishes, he sat down and did as she instructed. As he began to play, a small group gathered around him, and the young woman disappeared.

She returned a few minutes later carrying a six-stringed instrument. She sank gracefully to sit cross-legged on the floor and placed the instrument in her lap. He recognized it as a Terran guitar. She poised her fingers over the strings and smiled encouragingly up at him. “Go on.”

Starq frowned at he presumption and looked around the audience for some aid. When he saw that the group looked pleased and anticipatory, he choose not to disappoint them. He began a traditional exercise, his fingers drawing intricate patterns of sound from the lyrette strings. He soon became so absorbed that he forgot everything but the music. Only gradually did he become aware of the guitar, Terran music weaving itself around and through his own. It was complimentary, subtly changing the sound of the lyrette.

He looked down into the girl’s smiling eyes and nodded appreciatively. Then, to his surprise, she began to sing:

Click here to hear the song

When the rains came, I thought you’d leave
‘Cause I knew how much you loved the sun
But you chose to stay
Stay and keep me warm
Through the darkest nights I’ve ever known
The mandolin wind couldn’t change a thing
Couldn’t change a thing, oh no
The mandolin wind couldn’t change a thing…
Because I love you

It was obviously a Terran song, though not a modern one. It did not have an ancient feel to it, nothing compared to the thousands of years of folk music of Vulcan, but it did feel old by Terran standards. He deliberately lost himself again in it, absorbing it both into his memory and into his being – and though he had no idea what ‘mandolin wind’ was, the meaning of the phrase was clear.

As the duet ended, Starq nodded at the applause that Terrans used to show appreciation. He watched the girl lay aside her guitar, and begin clapping for him as well.

“You honor me, miss,” he told her as they both ignored requests for more.

“You’re very good,” she replied. “I hear the Guild’s trying to get you to join.”

The information was true enough, though he did not know how she had come to know it. He stood. She bounded to her feet to stand beside him. “My name is Starq,” he told her pointedly.

She held up her hand in Vulcan greeting, showing that she was not quite as uncivilized as she had first appeared. “Ruth Valley,” she responded. “I believe you’ve been looking for me.”

His raised eyebrow was the only indication of surprise. “Have you ever been told that you are a most unconventional person?” he asked.

She looked chagrined, then the mischievous smile returned. “I’m trying to get better.” She jerked her head toward the nearest exit. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

“But Starq, music’s your life, a necessity!” Ruth insisted. “Isn’t is logical to do what is necessary?”

“You are being repetitive, Ruth.” It was a conversation similar to many they had had in the last few weeks. Ruth Valley had given him not only access to the Valley Collection, but her companionship – as well an introduction to a number of other musicians; professionals, students and Guild members. She considered such exposure to so stimulating an environment an inducement to become part of it. He willingly admitted that there was a strong temptation to do so.

“You forget my duty,” he went on. “There are services that need to be performed despite personal inclinations.”

She sighed. “Agreed, but you’ve been in the diplomatic corps for twelve years. Isn’t that enough time to give to other people’s purposes? It’s only a job to you but your career is as an artist. Creativity isn’t illogical.”

“It is unnecessary for you to continue to throw logic at me, Ruth. I know very well that logical reasons can often be found for emotional considerations.”

“That doesn’t make what I’ve said any less valid. Taking emotional consideration into account is not using logic to excuse an emotion.”

“I did not say that it did. I also have a duty to my family.”

“How?” she demanded.

Starq sighed. “To become a Guild member, I must renounce all ties to family, home and birthplace and live for music alone.” Ruth began to speak, but Starq held up his hand. “I could do it, my wife would not object to a life in the Minstrel’s Guild. But I have yet to produce an heir to inherit my family’s lands in my place.”

“Then why don’t you…”

“It is not that simple.” Again Ruth began a protest, and again Starq silenced her. “I will not discuss it further.”

She frowned, then shrugged. “All right. Mind if I speak from experience?”

“At seventeen I doubt you could have much.” She tossed her head haughtily. A smile came into his eyes. “Then again, I must consider to whom I am speaking. Very well, I will listen.”

She flashed a grin back at him. “All I wanted to say is that it’s your life. Do what you have to do.”

“Simplistic,” Starq dismissed. “And selfish.”

She shrugged again. “I don’t think so. Depends on how you look at it, I guess. If you’re true to yourself, everyone else can be true to themselves, too.” She stood. “By the way, this is goodbye,” she announced melodramatically.

“You grow tired of my company?” Starq asked, also rising.

“No, and I could never tire of your lyrette. I’m leaving Terra.”

“To return to Antares?”

“No, I’m going to Jude. I should be back in a few weeks, but after that….” Another shrug. “Shalom, Starq.”

Ruth left the house in the middle of a perfectly good fight. She realized she would be missed, but since the fight was as much about her as with her she was sure that her grandparents could carry on. She was sad, and experiencing a new emotion that tasted bitter and hurt when she breathed.

Her grandfather had never been angry with her before. He'd been amused, tolerant, frustrated, concerned and even annoyed – but never angry. He was the best friend she had made in her two years on Terra – except for Terry and I don’t want to think about him now. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong. She had thought it would please him. Instead he’d thundered, “You’ve done what!?” at her.

She flinched and tried to explain. “I’ve donated the Collection to Alterra.”

“What gave you the right?!”

She was taken aback. “It was mine,” she answered. “Papa gave it to me.”

“It belongs to the Valleys!”

“It belongs to Earth. It’s Terran music, so I gave it to Terra.”

“Just who put this idea into your head? That collection’s been in the family for three hundred years!”

“Are we misers? Music belongs to everyone. Besides, savta pointed out that it belongs on Earth, with Humans.” She paused, then added needlessly, “I’m Antari.”

“You’re a Valley. What difference does it make where you were born?”

Ruth didn’t answer and the light suddenly dawned in her grandfather’s eyes. He turned angrily to his silent, disapproving wife. “This is your doing, isn’t it, Tova?” he demanded. “This is our son’s only child and you can’t accept her because she’s a hybrid? I used to think it was because we lost Rachel, I excused it… but this? You talked her into giving away the one thing her father left her because you don’t think she has a right to her Human heritage!”

They’d started yelling at each other. Ruth grabbed her guitar and fled into the quiet night. Back in the house, her grandparents were saying things that had taken two years to get spoken, but Ruth knew all of them. They forgot that she was a telepath. And even with the best of shielding there were some things she couldn’t help but know.

She wandered without really thinking about it toward the university campus. With either her student or faculty pass, the transport station would take her anywhere in the world she wanted to go. Only right now, she couldn’t think of anywhere on Terra she wanted to be.

She didn’t see what all the fuss was about. What was the Valley Collection anyway? Just a bunch of old music tapes that some ancestor had brought from Florida to Canada to Israel back in the twentieth century. It had been added to greatly since then, but all it really was, was the personal tastes of several generations of Valleys…

She realized quite suddenly, with equally sudden rueful anger, that to her grandmother it symbolized all that made Ruth Human. And she had just given it away.

Papa, why does she hate me?

There was, of course, no answer.

So what was she supposed to do? Her choices seemed limited to staying on Terra or returning to Antares. Neither appealed to her. Terra was both too crowded and too lonely. Antares didn’t want her either, and even if I went there, a few weeks of sitting in a tree weaving tapestries and I’d go out of my mind with boredom. I’m a product of two worlds, damnit, and I love them both. So why can’t I live on either?

Neither completes you. Neither is big enough to hold all you are.

The Blakely had been her true home; the ship itself. Planets were just places you stopped off at. Didn't Papa say you carried who you were inside you? You didn’t have to be on a rock surrounded by an atmosphere to be from someplace.

And you didn’t have to hold onto a stack of music tapes to be a Valley. That was inside her, too – and not only because she had memorized every tape and every score. Yonaton Valley had given her more of himself – more of a heritage than those tapes. As had Ramy ani Randal.

I need them, I love them but I don’t need their planets, their rocks with atmosphere. Neither had they, or they wouldn’t’ve spent fifty years on explorer ships.

You’re leading up to something I’m not sure I like.

Well, what am I supposed to do, spend my life on Jude committing miracles? That’s too tiring, too hard for the ego. I could get to feeling like a goddess or a martyr real fast, and the Zehara won’t like either of those.

She’s gonna like what you have in mind any better?

Why not? I’m Rhiannol, which makes me free to lead my own life – within limits, of course. And Antares has obligations to the Federation. And I could always use my Terran citizenship.

They’ll want you to be a doctor.

Not with my background in computers, they won’t. I hope. Maybe I can make a deal, promise to do both. Do they let scientists be Admirals? Admiral Ruth Valley. I could get to like that real easy. And I really could use the discipline. Papa always said that Fleet was the only thing he could think of that might have a calming influence on me. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps so badly…Lieutenant Commander Jonathon Valley, science officer, U.S.S Eagle. He didn’t use Fleet nostalgia for bedtime stories for nothing….

Ramy smiled tolerantly and murmured, “Brainwashing doesn’t work on keheils, Yonni.”

“She’s not a keheil yet. And what’s wrong with a keheil being in Starfleet?”

“Nothing, but she's four years old and I think you should let her get some sleep.”

Great comedy act the Valleys had.

Well, is there anything wrong with it? What if they don’t want me? Captain Decker said he’d help. With an endorsement from him, my records from Alterra and being a keheil… I’ll give him a call. It can’t hurt. Daffy’s going to be so annoyed when I show up at the Academy…

“What are you doing here!” Cadet Daphne Gollub screamed.

Cadet Ruth Valley smiled at the warm greeting from her old friend. “I thought you could use the company.”

The End