Baileinakh and several cultivators are working side by side, plucking healthy chruksh flowers from a long row of pink and purple trees. N'bril, trying desperately to appear committed to his new post and duties, strolls by the group of young cultivators. The disgraced leader's arms are crossed behind his back and he wears a stern expression.

  Baileinakh flashes N-Vorl's father a toothy yautja grin and nods respectfully. N'bril takes in her pleasant smile and appearance without much reaction. He strides past silently, headed for the habitat's liquid processing facilities. N-Vorl will be there.

  In the processing laboratory, N-Vorl stands straight-backed in front of a tall machine resembling a scrawny pyramid. A test tube of light purple liquid is held between two clawed fingers of his right hand. He presses a rectangular button on the side of the anorexic pyramid and a thin metallic arm ropes out.

  The robotic arm slowly inches forward, until it is hovering above the test tube in N-Vorl's hand. After a brief moment, several drops of a pale yellow liquid drip from the end, mixing with the purple liquid in the test tube. N-Vorl releases a deep sigh, watching the liquid change from light purple to almost crimson. Finally.

  "N-Vorl?" N'bril's voice calls loudly from the lab's entrance.

  N-Vorl rolls his green eyes and presses another button on the chuf'trhat machine. The robotic arm retracts into the machine as easily as it uncoiled from it.

  "Yes, Father! I am here," N-Vorl answers in a deep voice.

  N-Vorl hastily places a plug into the test tube in his hand, and shoves the tube inside a pouch on his belt. N'bril approaches his son with slight hesitance. Their relationship has been less than satisfactory, since the clan's untimely split--and his own unspeakable shame. As a descendant of proud and mighty hunters, N'bril can understand his son's hatred toward him. By staying behind, N-Vorl has abandoned all of his warrior dreams. No wonder, he is so angry. No wonder, he cannot see that he is losing the one thing he had hoped to keep close. Baileinakh.

  "You've been spending far too much time in the labs, N-Vorl. Your mother and I were hoping that you would have your evening meal with us. She has prepared the meat of the vetlik. She knows it is your favorite. She hopes to bribe you from Baileinakh's side. I told her it was a lost cause. But that I would try anyway."

  N'bril finishes the last of his statement with an uneasy chuckle. N-Vorl does not even look at his father. He pretends to examine the row of test tubes and chruksh samples spread across the table in front of him.

  "I have only just begun to analyze the latest batch of elixirs for Elder-Apparent Eflirus' shipment. He wants 4,000 vials for his battle on Edros Planet. I do not have time, Father. Perhaps, when I have finished. Another day."

  N'bril acknowledges N-Vorl's blatant lie with a silent head nod. He says nothing as he turns and exits the lab. N-Vorl's heart hammers in his chest and he retrieves the test tube from the pouch on his belt. He stares at the liquid within, an angry expression altering his visage.

  -

  -

  "N-Vorl...Where are you? Stop playing games," Baileinakh says in a strained voice.

  Hiking up the bottom of her flowing pink cultivator's robe, she makes her way through the densely packed chruksh trees. It won't be long before the trees will need to be cut back again. Like the ooman plant called bamboo, chruksh trees grow at a rapid rate, their limbs intertwining within days instead of the weeks it takes most plants to grow.

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  Reaching a clearing, at the garden's center, Baileinakh places a slender hand on her shapely hip. She narrows her hazel eyes and glances around knowingly. A rustling noise behind her, tells Baileinakh everything she needs to know. She is prepared to turn just as N-Vorl's hands cover her eyes.

  "Who dares take away my sight?" Baileinakh repeats the usual joke.

  N-Vorl lowers his mouth to beside his lover's ear and whispers softly.

  "Who dares...Indeed?"

  Baileinakh spins to face N-Vorl. He drops his hands to her shoulders and she places her hands on his waist.

  "I have brought you something," N-Vorl says.

  He uses one hand to reach into his belt. Retrieving a test tube of red liquid, he smiles wolfishly at Baileinakh. She shakes her head in mock disapproval.

  "One of these days, N-Vorl--" Baileinakh begins to say.

  "You always say that. But it will never happen, my love. I am the Master Cultivator's son. They would not dare accuse me. And I have no plans to tell them. It is only one of a test batch. No harm done."

  Baileinakh takes the offered elixir and chuckles softly. She returns N-Vorl's wolfish grin.

  "You do realize...The elixir should be purple? Not red? What have you done to it, N-Vorl?"

  "Anything which will keep you by my side, Baileinakh," N-Vorl quips.

  "N-Vorl?!"

  "I simply altered the formula so that it is closer to what our ancestor's would have partaken of. I have done nothing which will change the original intent or cause harm. I find that I like this color better. It is like the flowing blood of an ooman."

  "Oh really, N-Vorl. Your hatred of the oomans is quite...Disturbing. In all of your previous travels...You've never even met one. The stories the others tell may be exaggerated. I find hating an entire species to be...Well...I imagine they would feel the same about us."

  N-Vorl cups Baileinakh's face while pressing their foreheads together.

  "I have upset you?"

  "No...I mean...I know you're hurting, N-Vorl. I know you wish to hunt again...Like the others. But, this obsession many males of our kind have with trophies and killing...Bothers me greatly. It's why I chose to stay on with your father as a cultivator. I jumped at the opportunity because I wanted to be surrounded by beauty; not death. Not the constant barrage of war jargon, and preparations for battle. I am happy to no longer hear casters exploding random targets...At almost all hours of the day. I enjoy our walks in the garden...Instead of watching you hurl sticks at charging vildif beasts."

  N-Vorl remains quiet, allowing Baileinakh to vent her frustrations. She stares up into his face.

  "Our clan is already so much less than it was. Wars and disease...Death and infighting...Has already weakened us. Now this...Your father's fall from grace. The clan has been split yet again. You're a cultivator. Yet, like many others...You still talk of war and killing. And trophies. Mostly, about killing oomans. You're projecting, N-Vorl. Because you are angry. I don't know...If I can stand it anymore."

  N-Vorl's face falls as he struggles to absorb Baileinakh's angry words.

  "What are you saying, Baileinakh? Do you no longer love me?"

  Baileinakh's eyes widen and she grips one of N-Vorl's hands in both of her slender ones.

  "I'm not saying that! I just think...You need to make a choice. Are you a cultivator...Or are you a warrior? Right now, you're neither. And I can't stand to see what it is doing to you. I think you should approach Elder Glandis again. Ask to join his battle group. Get your blooding...And this desire for trophies...Out of your system. It is long overdue. Then...We'll figure out where that leads us. Sometimes, you can be two things at once. Sometimes, not. You have the makings of a great warrior, N-Vorl. I'm not sure...If that's what I love about you. I suppose...We'll see."

  N-Vorl brings Baileinakh's hands to his mouth and kisses them. He nods and turns to leave. Baileinakh's voice halts him.

  "Where are you going? Do you not want to see what response your enlivened elixir will elicit?"

  N-Vorl's smile returns to his face. He slowly turns to peer at Baileinakh--just as she finishes downing the last few drops of crimson fluid from the test tube. Baileinakh tosses the tube into the nearby brush and opens her arms wide. N-Vorl needs no more invitation than that. He is upon the beckoning female in only seconds.

  Rubbing his left cheek against Baileinakh's, N-Vorl inhales her scent. Yes. He has made the right choice. Baileinakh's breathing slows as the elixir begins having an effect. N-Vorl caresses her back through the material of her robe. When he senses that she is near readiness, he stoops and picks her up. Heading for their favorite spot, near the statue of his deceased grandfather, N-Vorl whispers softly into Baileinakh 's ear.