It is the 30th day of the year of togh llhèv, 38th cycle of the second era. Stardate 2562269 point 5. The sky over the Regulan province of Lhán-Ghar is beautiful shades of violet, the sun a cool red as it falls below the mountain dominated horizon, so far away on this evening in late spring. The vast meadow is sparsely dotted with massive off-white coloured homesteads made of arching walls and protruding spheres, of which many of the largest are transparent. Each homestead belongs to a single vallhán, each tens of kilometers apart from the other, irregularly dividing the province by seven. Further dotting each of the vallhán’s territories are clusters of buildings in similar architectural style, though each a mere fraction of the main homesteads. Punctuating the countryside are the smallest structures. Each no more than six meters in circumference, these wanderer’s houses are common in all provinces throughout Regulus V. For though Caitians find comfort and strength in their prides, they are still prone to wandering and taking long tracts of time to themselves.
A young Caitian, who has only hours ago returned from a wanderer’s house, sits on a large rock that overlooks some of the family’s farmland, peering up at the slowly changing hues of the sky as evening takes its time turning to night.
“Volh di-Kóm!” The young Caitian’s mother calls out, leaving the door to the small house open as she walks toward the large rock her child sits on. “Volh di-Kóm, you’ve returned.” Her tone is conversational now, as she stands behind her child. “You’re ready for your kòr wetaj then? Or did you just return home for some of mother’s cooking?”
The young Caitian’s ears perk at the questions. Turning and sliding off the rock, the child smiles. “I am ready.”
“So you’ve chosen your name then?” The Caitian mother smiles widely, “Don’t tell me, Gh’Than, maybe? Gh’Ress?”
“M’Rii,” her child answers confidently.
“M’Rii,” the young Caitian’s mother repeats after a long moment. She lets it sit on her tongue, pronouncing each phoneme with seeming deliberation.
“After great grandmother.”
“Indeed. M’Rii… Yes,” a smile curls in the corner of her lips, “M’Rii. Fitting.”
“You..,” the young Caitian pauses with a moment of uncertainty, “you approve?”
“Of course, my dear,” she says, embracing her child in a strong hug. “It’s a very fitting name.”
“And father?”
“He will be thrilled you’ve chosen to honour his grandmother. And excited to have a daughter. Come,” she puts and arm around her child, who has grown slightly taller than her, and leads their way back to the house. “Then we have a big day tomorrow. I shall inform Vallhán Jin. You eat and get some rest.”
“Where is father?” The child asks, serving up a bowl of day’s long stewed legumes.
“He’s on a stalk-about. But he’s got his comm with him. Would you like me to tell him, or have us meet at the temple?”
“Let him be for now. He can meet us at the temple tomorrow,” the child says before hastily eating dinner and heading off to get ready for bed.
“M’Rii,” the mother says to herself again, slowly. Smiling as she considers all the ways life could unfold for her soon to be adult daughter.
Early in the morning of the 31st day, Mother Hán knocks on her child’s door. “Volh di-Kóm, are you awake?” Not hearing her child stir, Mother Hán enters the small personal chamber. The morning sun shines directly into the room, the opacity of the small spheroid room turned down to clear. Sprawled out, lazily dozing on a pile of blankets and pillows, lies her child.
“You can’t call me that after today,” the young Caitian says, groggily sitting up and blocking out the sun while stretching.
“You’re not an adult yet, my child. Come, I’ve made spiced twagh root for breakfast.” No sooner has she it, her child has already pushed past her to sit at the table. “Oh, not serving yourself?”
“I’m not an adult yet, remember?” The youngling smirks. Mother Hán sighs and shakes her head with a smile as she walks over to serve her child the spiced root soup.
“It’s already chilled?” The child asks excitedly.
“I made it early this morning, so it’d be nice and cold when you finally got up,” she says as she serves herself breakfast as well.
Soon after eating and communal cleaning, the child’s gaze darts toward the door of the house, ears perked forward. A loud whirring outside indicates that a vehicle has landed. But the clunkiness and pitch give away the age of the vehicle. Before the young Caitian can even bound toward the door, it opens. “Gh’Nev! What are you doing here?”
“I hear I won’t be calling you Volh di-Kóm after today?” Replies a tall, broad Caitian. His features are strongly feline, in contrast to his mother’s and his youngest sibling’s. Much closer to their father’s side of the family. He shares the same light brown hair colour as his youngest sibling, however. And those same rare blue eyes. “You didn’t think I’d let my kid sibling walk to a kòr wetaj, did you?” He smirks so widely. “Ooh, is that spiced twagh?”
“Hey! That’s mine!” The young Caitian teasingly protests as Gh’Nev serves himself a small bowl. “But I guess you can have some if you’re giving us a ride.”
“I spoke to mom this morning,” he says, sitting down with his bowl. “Chilled? Gross,” he sighs, turning his attention from the bowl to his sibling.
“Yeah, she made it for me,” the young Caitian smirks.
Letting the spoon fill mostly with the cold broth, Gh’Nev continues, “are you excited? What’s your name? Mom wouldn’t tell me, only that I won’t ever guess it, but it fits you well.”
“Do you want me to tell you? Or do you want to be surprised?”
“Hmm,” Gh’Nev mulls it over a moment as he slurps a few spoonfuls of the chilled soup. “Tell me.”
“M’Rii,” the young Caitian smiles widely, very pleased.
“M’Rii? Wow…”
“What?”
“Mom was right,” he says with a nod, “that will fit you perfectly.” His own broad smile drops only slightly as he considers the implications, “I guess that means you won’t be living in vallhán Wèy?”
“No.., I’ll be staying in vallhán Hán. But you know I’ll still come to visit you and Gh’Tor.”
“Speaking of which, our eldest brother won’t be able to attend. His mate is pregnant and…”
“I’m going to have niblings?” The young Caitian’s eyes widen with excitement.
“Yes, they are due today,” Gh’Nev nods.
“Wow, on my kòr wetaj.”
“Speaking of your ceremony, we need to get going unless you want to be late,” their mother says as she enters the dining area, clad in the ceremonial robes of vallhán Hán.
“Yes mother,” the two say in unison. The young Caitian takes Gh’Nev’s bowl over to the replicator, and cleans up the dining area quickly. The three of them then leave the house.
Some few meters from the small stead is a sleek, chrome shuttle, a perfectly restored classic, a relic from the Regulan Sky Navy, with the pre-Federation markings of the Lhán-Ghar Watch. “Do you like it?” Gh’Nev asks as he punches the code into the archaic panel that operates the door. “I just put the Lhán-Ghar Watch insignia on it this week.”
“Is it from when we fought the Kzinti?” the young Caitian asks.
“No,” Gh’Nev smirks, “it’s from a much later era than that. No, this beauty,” he says as they all get into the craft, “is from the decades before we joined the Federation and folded our Sky Navy into Starfleet.
The countryside passes in a blur as the deceptively fast, classic vessel flies over the vast meadow. Soon, the vallhán Jin homestead dominates the view. The largest of all the homesteads, Jin territory has but one steading. It is home of all of the s’vong shamans in the entire province, those Caitians who feel the call to walk a different path from their siblings. The structure is so massive that it doubles not only as the home of all of the s’vong in the province, but as one of the landing sites for larger ships and intraplanetary travel hubs. A massive golden tower shaped like an outreached claw serves as the main landing pad, capable of holding over a wing of shuttle crafts. Gh’Nev’s ship lands after confirmation from the city sized homestead, and an elderly s’vong, dressed in simple shaman’s garb, greets the three of them.
“M’Van,” the elderly shaman says with a warm smile, embracing the woman.
“S’Nev! It’s wonderful to see you again. I’m so glad you agreed to the kòr wetaj for my Volh di-Kóm.”
“For you? Of course,” the shaman smiles. They turn their attention to the young Caitian standing shyly behind M’Van, “hello child. You don’t remember me, do you? You were ill at Gh’Nev’s ceremony, and I think before that it was Gh’Tor. My, you must’ve been just a kitten then.”
“Gh’Nev was named after S’Nev, you know,” the young Caitian’s mother informs. “S’Nev has been preforming kòr wetaj for vallhán Hán since I was a cub.”
“So, you’ve chosen your name?” S’Nev asks. The young Caitian nods. “Your father has been here for hours, so let’s not keep him waiting,” the shaman smiles, leading the family from the landing pad to a turbo lift. Moments later the door slides open into a gargantuan, Spartan room. A red carpet with gold trim follows from the turbo lift door several meters to an altar. Upon the altar is a golden claw that wraps around a platinum bowl. Behind the bowl there are three thick books of platinum plates and a hammer and small chisel. Beside the altar stands a tall Caitian, though a tear falls from his eye, is smiling. As the family take their place before the altar, the young Caitian whispers “father, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, my child,” he responds, “I am just happy for you.”
“Your father gets like this at every kòr wetaj,” M’Van replies. S’Nev takes their place behind the altar. Placing their finger into the ritually purified water, they reach forward and press a soaked finger onto the young Caitian’s forehead.
“Declare your name,” the shaman commands.
“M’Rii,” the young Caitian says with resolve.
The shaman dips their fingers into the bowl again, flicking the ritually purified water at M’Rii several times. She blinks, making a most displeased face with each flick of water. “Henceforth you are M’Rii, daughter of M’Van and Gh’Rem, vallhán Hán. Your name will now be recorded in the Platinum Records of vallhán Hán.”
“My… daughter!” Gh’Rem embraces M’Rii, happy and tearful. “Your great grandmother would be honoured,” he says with a sniffle. “Oh, it fits you so well. I’m so happy,” he sniffles a little more, squeezing the now officially named young woman.
“Gh’Rem, let her go, you’re going to crush her,” M’Van lightly scolds before turning to S’Nev. “Will you join us for celebration?”
“Of course. One of the younger shamans can etch her name into your family records. These hands are too old to strike anything legible anyway.”
“Why is it that we don’t just put it in the central computer?” M’Rii asks, a brow perked.
“Oh, we do,” S’Nev says, “but we also keep the platinum records as hard copies, to prevent the loss of history as we did at the end of the first era. These plates don’t rust and aren’t prone to the same aging damages as the lacquered books we once used. Besides, if we don’t remember the old etched script, who will?” The elderly shaman lets out a slight chuckle.
“Why is the room so large?” M’Rii asks as they all start walking down the red carpet toward the turbo lift.
“In generations gone by, the entire vallhán would come, and the naming ceremony would last most of the day. Each child of a vallhán would declare their name on the same day. And if they weren’t ready on the vallhán’s kòr wetaj day, they’d have to wait another year. And, of course, there was much more ceremony and circumstance if a newly named Caitian moved vallhán. Not that you would have had to worry about that today, but both of your brothers would have had to. Now, well, now it’s mostly a relic. In fact, kòr wetaj are rarely even observed outside of the rural provinces.”
“My daughter, my dear daughter,” Gh’Rem sniffles as they stand in the turbo lift, moving to another floor. His large arm wraps around M’Rii and pulls her into another hug.
“Father, please,” M’Rii says with slight embarrassment.
“You think this is bad?” Gh’Nev chuckles, “you should have seen him when me and Gh’Tor both became part of vallhán Wèy.”
“Yes, but with both of you I knew it was inevitable. With your… with your sister though. Oh how I had hoped.”
“Your father’s just happy you’ll be living at home with us. He’s been so worried about having none of you around the stead after your naming,” her mother says.
The door to the turbo lift opens and the small group walk down a hallway, led by the shaman, to a celebration room. Inside are several of M’Rii’s friends and cousins, many of whom have yet to have their kòr wetaj, as well as older relatives from both vallhán Hán and Wèy. But before she is allowed to enter, she is swept away from her parents and brother, to change into something more fitting of her young adulthood. The shaman presents her with a beautifully technicoloured sun dress, and lets her hair down without cutting anything.
“It’s important to look the part,” S’Nev smiles as they adjust M’Rii’s hair a little and fuss over the dress. “There. Now, let’s go present you. Everyone’s waiting.”
S’Nev enters and calls the room to attention, “May I present M’Rii, daughter of M’Van and Gh’Rem, vallhán Hán.” All eyes turn to the door as the young woman enters. She shyly smiles, waiving at the room. There is a moment of silence as her family and friends take a moment to look at her, then a loud cheer in unison. M’Rii tries to hide behind the shaman, but her attempts are thwarted. After the cheer and the room calms down, Gh’Rem and M’Van walk over to their daughter.
“Your brother is on holo, he wanted to say hi,” her mother says, leading her over to the holostation. The likeness of Gh’Tan appears, holding a small kitten swaddled in cloth.
“M’Rii, huh? That’s a very pretty name,” he says.
“Is that my nibbling?” M’Rii smiles.
“Voth di Hám,” he smiles widely.
“Wow, really?”
“Yup. M’Nor had two kittens!”
“Aww,” M’Rii smiles.
“But come on, tell me, how do you feel?”
“Like… a young adult I guess?”
“A beautiful young woman,” Gh’Tan smiles.
M’Rii blushes, “I suppose so, yeah.”
“Kind of sad you won’t be coming to Wèy,” he chuckles, “but I always kind of figured you’d be M’-something.” There is a mewling in the background, and a call from Gh’Tan’s wife. “M’Nor says hi, and she can’t wait to come see you. I can’t either. Hopefully soon, but I have to go give her a hand. Love you, sis,” he smiles, helps the swaddles kitten waive, and the hologram terminates.
M’Rii mingles with her friends and family for some time, catching up with some of the family on from her father’s mo-vallhán. After a time she rejoins her mother, father and brother, sitting at a table with an uncle, her mother’s brother. Her father excuses himself to head to the table with various snacks and delicacies, piling the deserts onto a plate.
“M’Rii, eh?” He says as she sits.
“Mhmm,” M’Rii nods.
“Your parents tell me they are not surprised. Your father seems relieved,” he chuckles.
“Yeah, he’s been weeping quite a bit,” M’Rii giggles. “I think he was worried I would go with my brothers, but Gh’Rii just didn’t suit me,” she giggles.
“And I am glad it didn’t,” Gh’Rem beams as he sits down. He places a few small deserts in front of M’Rii, “because now my child… my daughter! Will be staying home.”
“Have you thought about your future at all? What you’d like to study?” M’Van asks, snagging a small sweet treat from Gh’Rem’s plate.
“Actually..,” M’Rii bites her lip, “I was thinking of joining Starfleet.”
“Starfleet?!” Gh’Rem nearly chokes.
“Relax, dad. I can’t even apply for three more years.”
Star Trek: To Boldly Go 