Zelda sighed. There was a smudge of ink on her cheek. She sat down on the couch - flopped down, really, but into a sitting position - and rested her palms on her knees. The thing about Ari was that he got it, at least as a concept - even if their jobs were worlds apart.

"I've hit a wall," Zelda said, "I don't even know if it's doable. The logical thing to do would be to try and destroy the structure housing the curse, wrap things up that way." If she kept working on the Voyager she was not convinced that she would ever be able to fix it; it may be a puzzle without an answer, rather than one she could think her way out of.

"But that's not the right thing."

The Voyager mattered. Alfred didn't care about her anymore, but he had, once, and so - she had to fix the boat. Even if it wasn't, on paper, worth her time.

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