The Cyndriel sun crept beneath the skyline, casting shadows the color of dying embers across the landscape. Jelandra Jadrice Midral Gear, Child of the Third House, stood, silently, at her balcony, looking out at her green and pleasant land - her world, in need of her protection. She sighed, heavily, as the last rays of light dwindled, scintillated, and died. Twilight overcame the land.

'Penny for your thoughts, little Jelly', a voice appeared in her head. She hadn't sensed him approaching, though she should have done... She was slipping.

'I doubt you have enough time to listen to them, Brother...' She didn't turn around - she could tell from his electropathic echoes where he was; three feet behind her, just inside the balcony double-doors.

'For you? Always." He walked out onto the balcony and leaned on the balcony ledge, next to her. If it had been Jesa, awake, distressed and confused, he'd have flashed her a grin and reassured her. With Jelandra... Jelandra was a strange case and always had been. But stranger since the Occupation.

She didn't say anything for a while. When she did speak, it was with her mouth, not her mind. "It can't continue like this, Brother. We can't endure it."

"Well, Jesa and I will be moving on in a fe-"

"That's not what I mean!" she yelled, her face a mask of pain and fury. "That's... Not it at all." She buried her face in his chest. For an instant, she was not the waiflike, regal Daughter of the Third House she had become; she was the little girl who used to come into her brother's room when the nightmares and the voices got too much for her; the little sister who occasionally needed her brother to help her find a way out of the cold, dark places in her mind.

Buck sighed and hugged her, giving her forehead a light kiss. "There now, little one... What has happened while I've been gone?"

She looked up at him, her eyes tearing. "I... I came back to help our people. The occupation... It left dreadful scars upon the land, and upon those who endured it - scars that can never be healed, only accepted. Those of us strong in our talents were called upon to help the others - to rebuild broken mental barriers... It was exhausting, mentally, physically and most of all *emotionally*."

Her brother simply nodded. He knew of the work she was doing - he knew it had given her a new fire, a new purpose. He knew that now, when she walked down the streets of their Capitol, people venerated her as befitted her station. But he also knew how tiring it was for her, keeping up this facade of emotional detachment and selflessness.

"I, personally, was asked to tend to the survivors of S-sentok Nor..."

A glimmer of anger in her brother's eyes, and then nothing. What could he do? Admonish her for exposing herself to the minds of those the damnable Cardassians had tortured and psychically dissected in their efforts to isolate telepathic genomes? No. She needed his support, not his indignation and self-righteousness. "That was a very brave task - especially for one such as you, Jelly."

"Brave? You mean foolish. I helped as many as I could, Buck... I embedded the memories in the lighter cases behind mental barriers. In the worst cases, we would pick apart the memories - erase them, as close as we could. But to do any of that meant seeing those memories - and experiencing them..."

She paused again, sniffing.

"What they did... What they did to our people was evil. There is no other word for it. They slaughtered those who attempted to stand against them; they killed their families. They would just erase villages and hamlets where the word 'resistance' was even thought aloud... And the ones they took to their abominable station..."

Jelandra turned away from her brother, looking at the first star of the evening; not a star, but the system's fourth planet, from its elevation at least...

"They took one of the galaxy's kindest, most loving peoples - and they have made us bitter, and cold, and scared. So very scared, Buck! And paranoid voices call out in the night that the days of the telepathic races are numbered... And occasionally, one can't help but see the evidence before ones eyes, and think that they mightn't be so much paranoid as simply a small step beyond rational..."

Buck's jaw visibly dropped. "Jelly, you can't still believe-"

"I'm a scientist, Brother. I look at the evidence before me and I draw my conclusions based on the facts. Here are some facts: the Fleet was out of position to protect our world, and that as a direct result of that we had to endure occupation by enemy forces throughout the nastiest part of the war; that we had to organize our own resistance to the occupation because the Federation was more concerned with defending it's IMPORTANT worlds like Vulcan and Andor; that the only reason the Dominion couldn't turn on us as they turned on the Cardassians was that a Daughter of the Fifth House used her influence over a Starfleet Captain to generate enough momentum to have a rescue mounted; that WE DIED BY THE THOUSANDS because other worlds were more important!" Her voice had raised almost to screaming pitch. She paused, lowering her voice and chuckling, nastily, "And that the FEDERATION blamed US for having 'antiquated planetary defenses'. It was our own fault we were invaded. That was the sympathy we received, Brother..."

He could not think of anything to say. He had known of the problems Betazed faced, but he had no idea they had cut as deep as they did... "So you support the voices calling for cessation from the Federation and an alliance with other powers...?"

She looked at him, her dark eyes ablaze with anger and pain and countless other emotions. "Damn you, Buck. NO! The Federation needs us. And we need it. It has just lost its way, and it needs correcting..."

"So you agree with the BetaPsis then? Betazoid supremacy?"

"Again, no - I have had dealings with BetaPsi, but only mutual information exchange - I am opposed to all intimations of 'racial superiority' - but that also makes me equally opposed to the idea of Telepathic Inferiority... I just want our people to be recognized for what they do. And I want them protected from all threats. We cannot survive another war, Buck - our people wouldn't, at least. And I know the Federation intends strengthening our defenses. But that doesn't mean there aren't certain individuals within the Federation who would be happy at seeing all non-tactile telepaths wiped off the face of the quadrant..."

Buck's eyes widened. "You have proof of this? And anti-telepath conspiracy?"

"No proof. Not yet. But enough circumstantial evidence that if this were murder then the courts would be pursuing a conviction... All of the information retrieved from Dominion ground stations and the forensic analysis of Sentok Nor was gathered and sent back to Earth for analysis. No telepaths are being permitted to work on the project - in fact, some have been actively transferred to other teams just to prevent them looking at the data. Even now, years after the war, we have received less aid and reconstruction assistance from the Federation than *Cardassia*. Certain members of the Federation Council have often lamented our traditionalism and our penchant for clinging to antiquated beliefs... And several important members of our society - powerful telepaths all - have vanished without trace. All after making some kind of anti-Federation statement... No, Buck, it's not proof - it's coincidence. And that's why I'm rejoining Starfleet - to FIND proof, if there is any, without raising furor enough to cause any major political repercussions *here*."

Buck thought about what she said. A year ago, he'd have laughed at her for suggesting there might be corruption within his beloved Federation; now he accepted it had its fair share of flawed individuals, and that it was the duty of people like him to find these flaws and see they were removed... Was it any surprise that a Daughter of the House of Health felt the same way? That she might give up her research career, her new-found social status, her beloved garden, for the *chance* of finding a cancer that deserved removing? No... She was her father's daughter; she was a good person; and she was a patriot. "Have you told Grandmother?"

"I'm hoping to avoid that by slipping away, quietly. One of our cousins will look after the Estate for me in my absence. It runs itself nowadays, provided the oranges are harvested at the right time..." Her voice drifted off.

Buck gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "If you need help..."

She took his hand, squeezing it gently. "No, Buck. You have another girl to help now - one who should be first and foremost in your mind. I can do this - I have to. And, besides, it might be that I'm wrong. I hope every day that I am. No, Brother - go back to your wife, and leave me to sort out these things my way." She turned back to face him, smiling. "Besides, I was always the better politician..."

"But Jel-"

"Goodnight, Brother." She looked at him, meaningfully but not unkindly. "Thank you..."

"What for? You won't let me help."

"For listening. Now - go back to my sister. I have things to do." She bowed, gracefully.

Buck sighed, returned her courtesy, and walked off the balcony and back downstairs. Once she was sure he was out of earshot, and not observing her thoughts, she turned back to the beauty that was the rolling plains beyond her balcony, and wept - for herself, for her people, for her world and for a whole host of things besides.

Eventually, when she could cry no longer, she came back inside and sat on her bed. She took a padd from her bedside table, and began writing a long, carefully-worded letter to her old Academy Tutor...