Cardamon walked carefully off the docking platform and nervously approached the docking officer.  The Voth was dressed in his civilian attire.  He handed his PADD to the officer, “Cardamon, a Voth.”

The docking officer accepted the PADD and examined the data, inputting the required information into his console.  He scanned through the data that returned.  “Purpose of your visit?”

He had rehearsed this answer several times in the mirror and with his fellow officers on the Mackenzie.  “I’m here to close out my shop and put the space up for sale.  I also need to verify my status with the Voth systems.”  He let out a small sigh of relief.

“According to our records, your shop has remained closed.  You can still access it.  As for the Voth…,” he tapped at the console, “…your record with the various Voth governments is clear and valid.”

Cardamon felt his face contract in a frown, “Clear and valid?”  Standard words were sometimes a struggle, even with the universal translator they had gifted him.

The deck officer stared at him and then explained, “It means there are no reports about you in the positive or the negative.”

The Voth felt his face relax, “No reports?”  He felt a flash of relief flood his body.  “They will not…hunt me?”

It was the deck officer’s turn to frown, “Why would they hunt you?”

Cardamon realized it had been the wrong thing to say.  “It is a game Voth play.  A…version of your hide and seek.”

The frown lessened, and he tapped the console, “Well, you’re cleared to enter Markonion Outpost. Welcome aboard.”  He filed a report on the Voth’s statement, just in case.

The hallway to his shop was still as busy as it had been.  The long structure at the end was covered as he had left it.  It took him a few minutes to remove the covering and security alarms.  The old shop unfolded before him, and he tapped the console control.  The lights flickered back on, revealing all his old inventory waiting to be tended.  He wondered what life had passed by his store in his absence.  A quiet pang of loneliness echoed through his heart as he surveyed the shelves, each item bringing a memory of how he had acquired it and then tried to sell it.

He ran his clawed hands over some of them, wondering what would have been had he chosen to remain here and not join the Mackenzie.  The arrival of Captain Harris had been a moment of chance.  It was a chance to escape the chains he felt were forming around his feet the longer he stayed in the shop.

“You have returned.” He turned to the voice, nodding as he recognized the voice.  It was Fog, one of the station’s Ferengi residents.

“I have come back…if only to remember this place for a moment.  To return suggests that I would stay.  I will not.”

Fog stepped closer, eyeing the storefront and the merchandise inside, “What will you do with all this…stuff?”

The Voth shrugged, “I will sell it.  Do you wish to purchase it?”  For Cardamon, it was simple – the memories of this place and his time here were not worth keeping.  The more distance he could put between his old life and the new would help him.

Fog rubbed his hands together and typed a figure into his device, showing the Cardamon the number, “Does this meet your needs?”

Glancing at the number, he tapped the ‘agree’ button on the device, “It is yours to do with that you will. I will notify the administration.”  

Fog stared at him in wonder at the lack of negotiation.  “That was too easy.” Cardamon walked away as the Ferengi mused, “If only the rest of the Delta Quadrant was as easy.”

He sat at a table alone.  The early morning had given way to lunch, and the food court was busy with the new arrivals and the old guard eying each other.  Cardamom paid it no mind.  He stared into the world around him, remembering why he had landed here in the first place, why he had left.

“Afternoon, Cardamon.”  The Quartermaster, Henry Wyatt, slid into the seat across from him with two plates filled to the brim.  “You look…well, I’ve only met a few Voth, so facial expressions are hard to read. You look…pensive?”

“Pensive?”  He searched his memory for the word.  Failing that, he pulled out his PADD and searched.  “Ah.  It is an accurate interpretation.”  Wyatt offered him some from his plate, and the Voth accepted, sliding his empty plate over.  “You are very old, Quartermaster Wyatt.”

Henry chuckled, “A lot older than you, sure.  You’ve lived a hundred years, so you’re also old.”

“Not as old as you are.”  Cardamon smiled with what he hoped came across as sly.  It worked.

The Quartermaster cackled, “You speak the truth.”  He took a bit from his plate, “You didn’t have to come back here.  I know how that goes.”

The Voth shook his head, “I’ve heard the saying, ‘needs must’ many times.  I needed to come back to settle the pieces of me that I left here.  We are whole again, Quartermaster Wyatt.  This place…this home…is no longer for me.  I can fly through the stars without thinking about the places I’ve abandoned.  As the Ferengi says, ‘the accounts are settled”.

Wyatt chuckled at that, “That’ll be the day.”  He drank the soda, “At least you’ve found where you belong.”

Cardamon ate from his plate and asked, “And you, Quartermaster Wyatt?  Have you found where you belong?”

Henry stopped his fork halfway to his mouth.  He gently set it down on the plate, “That’s…a hard question.  As a people, we don’t have a home anymore.  The Borg ripped that away from us and nearly exterminated us all.”  He thought for a moment.  Despite the Borg’s initial incursion and destruction, the El-Aurian people had survived and spread across time and space.  The Borg hadn’t succeeded in their elimination.  “I don’t belong anywhere, Cardamon…at least for long.  I’ll outlive the Mackenzie crew…and I might outlive the next threat.  I’ll continue on my journey of listening, watching…such is the way of our people.”

The Voth finished his plate and offered, “It sounds beautiful.  I learned this word ‘beauty’…it may be hard, it might hurt…but there is beauty in what you do with the lives you lived and will live.”

Wyatt smiled, “A quadrant may separate us…but you and I are much the same.” They remained at the table, enjoying each other’s company until the call from the Mackenzie came.  

It was time.