He saw the first slight flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I mean that guilt is a wonderful thing. It’s so expected. We assume that someone who survives or has, perhaps, been indirectly responsible for the death of a loved one ought to feel guilty for being alive.”

“Oh, but I’m sure you see it differently.”

Tyvan heard the sarcasm and knew that he’d struck a nerve. “That’s right. I think that guilt is a wonderful weapon. Guilt is like a mantle you use to cloak yourself from contact with other people. Guilt is armor, just like your body there; and guilt, just like your body, lulls everyone into assuming that guilt explains everything, so they leave you alone. What’s the expression? Walking on eggshells, pussyfooting around. Guilt is a marvelous way of making sure that no one sees inside your soul, or knows the truth. And you’ve gone one better.”

“And how is that?” she asked, her tone not sarcastic now. She sounded like a scared little girl.

Tyvan leaned forward, careful not to crowd her. “Darya, you’ve let yourself stay this way so you can keep everyone else at bay. You know how, way back, on Earth, they used to condemn people who’d committed certain horrible crimes to death?”

Bat-Levi moved her head in a squealing, miniscule nod. “Capital punishment. That was abolished after the Bell Riots, three hundred years ago.”

“Right. I’ve studied that period in Earth’s history, and particularly the history of capital punishment.”

“Why? That’s so gruesome.”

“Not if you don’t understand the concept. We El-Aurians never practiced capital punishment. Killing someone as the ultimate punishment? Yes, I suppose there’s some justice to it: an eye for an eye, that sort of thing.”

Bat-Levi shook her head. “No, that’s wrong. See, I’m Jewish and…well, culturally, really, but my uncle is a rabbi. He said that even the old rabbis, from way back, understood that a literal interpretation of that law helped no one. Taking out eyes, chopping off hands: The old joke was the ancient Middle East must have been filled with one-eyed cripples.”

“And how did they resolve the issue? I thought that the orthodox of your many religions were pretty rigid about these things.”

“Rigidity isn’t confined to Earth. But, to answer your question, the rabbis got together and decided on how to compensate people for loss, damages, things like that. So instead of losing your eye, you might pay what that eye was worth. There were only a few crimes that merited the death penalty. Murder was one of them, but all that finally died out on Earth centuries ago.”

Good, good, keep her talking, keep her working with you.“You have any theories on that?”

“On why capital punishment went away?” Bat-Levi thought. “I guess because dying isn’t the most awful thing that can happen to a person. Personally, I think…”

“What?”

Bat-Levi gave him a frank look. “I think that the minute right beforeyou die, when you know that this is it and there’s no going back, that’s got to be the worst.”

“Really? You think that knowing you’re about to die is worse than death, than not existing anymore?”

“Not if you believe in some religions. You have to take an afterlife on faith.”

“Do you believe in an afterlife?”

Bat-Levi hesitated for an instant. “No, not in the Biblical sense, if that’s what you’re driving at. On the other hand, Jews don’t really believe in a heaven or hell.”

“What do they believe?”

“I can’t speak for every Jew, but I do know that devout Jews believe that your soul is really just a piece of God. You’re renting it for a little while, that’s all. In the end, when you die, your soul goes back to God. I guess you’d call it a kind of Oversoul.”

“So, no hell? No condemnation for eternity?” Tyvan sat back and laced his fingers over his middle, but he was acutely aware that their time, for this session anyway, was running out, and he wanted her back, like this, willing to work withhim. “So how do people pay for their sins, in that religion?”

Bat-Levi gave a queer half-smile. “I guess it depends on your definition, doesn’t it? On what constitutes payment? Can I ask where this is going?”

“I was just thinking. We were talking about your nails, and then your body, and youmentioned guilt, and I…” Tyvan shrugged and shook his head in a you-got-megesture. “Well, I was just wondering how you were paying, that’s all.”

“Paying.”

“Right. For your brother Joshua,” he said, as if she needed additional information.

Bat-Levi made a tiny sound—a clicking noise in the back of her throat that Tyvan knew was not a servo but the sound a person would make when she’s trying not to cry. He waited her out. The clock ticked, tocked.

Finally, Bat-Levi cleared her throat. “You have an idea about that.”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do. You see, I think you’re right. I think that dying isn’t the worst punishment sometimes. You said it yourself: It’s that awful, terrible instant before, when you knowand you’re more frightened than you thought you could ever be and still be alive. Don’t you humans have the expression scared to death?Except this is just plain scared. Pure, unadulterated, searing terror: imagining the possibilities, facing that everything you ever believed in may be a lie and that there’s simply nothing but blackness, darkness. Something you can’t even compare to sleep because at least when you sleep, you dream.”

“What does that have to do with me? I’mnot going to die.”

“But you’ve tried.”

“I mean I’m not now.Trying, that is.”

“No?”

“No, I’m sitting right here. I’m alive. I’m back at work. I’m living.”

“Precisely. You’re alive, Darya, but that’s not the same as living. You’re alive, but that’s because you’ve condemned yourself to life.”

“No,” said Bat-Levi, swallowing hard, “no, I don’t want to hear this.”

Tyvan pushed on, knowing that time was running out but not wanting to lose the moment. Careful, careful, not too fast, give her space, give her time.“Your brother is dead, and you’re going to make sure everyone knows that you were responsible. You want people to look at you and see a monster. Only you’re hiding in there…”

“I’m not a coward,” said Bat-Levi. She clenched her fists, and Tyvan was reasonably sure that her left hand—the one without nails—could probably rip his heart right out. “I am nota coward. Suicide is the coward’s way. I’m alive.”

“And you think that makes you brave? You think that parading around your guilt is bravery? No, Darya, no, it takes more bravery to dare to be happy again, to leave your guilt behind. It’s braver to livethan simply be alive.”

Bat-Levi’s laugh was bitter, almost a snarl. “You’re like all the other doctors, shaking their heads and tsk-tsking over poor, benighted Darya Bat-Levi. Such a beautiful woman, and nowlook at her.”

“This has nothing to do with beauty. This has to do with parading your inner ugliness. I’m not suggesting that you run out and change. I want you to understand your choices. So let’s look at the facts. You refused evacuation to Starfleet Medical. You refused every single reconstructive surgery, every offer of synthetic skin grafts. Ten years have passed, and even though better, more lifelike prostheses are available, you have those.” He indicated her artificial legs and left arm. “You limp, and you don’t need to. You have scars you don’t need to keep. You wrap yourself in guilt you don’t require, because it’s easier.”

“Don’t tell me what I need!” The words erupted from Bat-Levi’s throat in a hoarse shout. Spit frothed at the corners of her mouth, and the cords bulged in her neck. “Do you think I wantto live like this? Do you think I enjoylooking like a freak? Doyou?”