Chapter
1

Domenica Corsi decided she wasn't dead.

Determining whether she was dying or not took a little longer.

The pain was certainly sufficient for fatal injuries. And she couldn't move. When she pushed past the pain enough to try, nothing happened. More disturbing than either the pain or the immobility was the floating in darkness, along a dark tunnel toward a light. She'd heard about that. Generally speaking, in terms of being alive, that was a bad sign.

The light went out for a while and when it came back she decided it meant she'd fallen asleep. Or passed out.

There was a sound, like leather against wood, and another like clicking or ticking, but they faded and were gone. They'd sounded alive, not like machines. There was a smell, too—peppermint and cedar. That stayed.

Pain still gripped her, but it was not as intense. More an ache than agony. And it was universal, as though someone had methodically pummeled every square centimeter of her body with a loving attention to detail.

She still could not move. But now, more aware, she realized a tightly wound blanket, not paralysis, held her in its grip.

The light she had been floating toward resolved itself into a softly glowing… She wasn't sure. It was irregular, but vaguely spheroid, and seemed to be overflowing out of a basket of woven vines. The basket was on a shelf, maybe two meters away. The shelf looked as though it had been carved out of a wall of living wood.

She let her eyes drift shut and considered the possibility she was delirious. As far as she could remember, no Federation starships were carved of wood.

Corsi forced her eyes open.

She was not delirious. She was wrapped in a blanket on a bed of something soft, the source of the peppermint and cedar scent, she decided. Her bed was low to the floor of a dimly lit room or cabin that seemed to be carved from a single block of heavily grained wood.

Turning her head the few degrees the wrappings allowed, Corsi could see the one shelf with the odd lantern, a wooden bucket or trough that was not carved from the floor, and a dark wall covering that may or may not have concealed an entrance. She had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there, but she was reasonably certain it had not been of her own free will.

There was a padding sound again, something soft—leather?—sliding over wood. And again the series of clicks and ticks. Movement and voices, she decided, beyond the wall hanging-covered door.

Corsi let her eyes droop shut to slits, no tension to her face as she feigned sleep. Through the haze of her lashes, she saw the wall covering bow inward, then aside.

A head appeared, long and broad, just over a meter above the floor. At first she though it was an animal, but then she realized it was carrying a tray with folded cloths of some sort. She couldn't make out its color through her lashes in the dim light, but it was dark. What she could discern of the face looked remarkably like that of a Terran chipmunk, minus the split upper lip. The tiny rounded ears that projected above and wide, lemurlike eyes compounded the effect.

It turned to one side, chittering in a series of clicks and ticks, and Corsi realized the creature was longer than it was tall. The body that extended back from the upright torso had at least two pairs of legs. The blend of disparate features struck her as being like nothing so much as a cross between a chipmunk and a centaur.

A second chiptaur entered the room, and then a third. With that many eyes on her, she couldn't risk her surreptitious observation and let her eyes drift fully shut.

Corsi willed her body to remain limp as the creatures unwrapped her from the blanket. They were as gentle as they could be; at least they seemed to be taking care, chittering softly to one another as though mindful of disturbing her. But it was hard not to tense against the pain that shot through her at every turn and pull. She thought she heard the rustle of the doorway hanging beneath the sounds of their voices and thought perhaps one had exited into the outer room or hall or whatever lay beyond her small chamber.

As they lifted her legs Corsi caught the sharp scent of urine and realized they were changing her diaper. She couldn't stop the hot flush she felt spreading up from her throat.

A sharp chirp stopped the gentle flow of clicking conversation. A pad, feeling like warm suede, pressed against the side of her face. They'd noticed her change in hue.

Copyright © 2005 by Paramount Pictures