T'ARAMU by Sue Newlands

CHAPTER ONE – STAXIS LEIA

Kirk leaned back into the fresh green grass and sighed in contentment. It had been a good week. A good month, come to that. Recreational facilities on Starbase 11 were excellent and no crew had needed them more, or taken fuller advantage of them – captain included. Memories of a certain doctor, whose ship had left port the day before, were likely to keep him smiling for quite some time.

He chewed reflectively on a blade of grass and wondered what mission the 'Enterprise' would be given next. He had needed the rest, as they all had; the last six months had been spent on reconnaissance work perilously close to the Klingon border with everyone's nerves stretched to the limit, and there had been several very close shaves. Now he itched to get back into space again. The 'Enterprise' had been overhauled from bridge to nacelles and was ready to fly the moment the word was given. The only question now was where.

His communicator chirruped and he flicked it open, rolling over on his side.

'Yes, Mr Spock?'

'A message from Admiral Doran's office, sir,' the Vulcan's calm voice said. 'He wishes to see you immediately to discuss the orders for our next mission.'

'Okay, Spock, on my way. Start recalling all personnel still on shore and put the ship on standby.'

'Understood, sir. Spock out.'

Kirk rose slowly to his feet, stretched himself luxuriously and then settled his shoulders with a smile. He began to move purposefully towards the park exit.

Back to work.

Doran's assistant told him to go right in, eyeing him speculatively from under lowered lashes all the while, and Kirk took a moment to think that if his leave wasn't about to finish….

'Welcome, Jim,' Doran held out his hand to the younger man, the suggestion of a smile lightening his normally severe expression. 'You look well. Brandy?'

Once they were seated, Doran pushed a sealed tape across his desk to Kirk.

'Your new orders, Jim. You can examine them at your leisure later but it's a pretty straightforward mission. You remember Staxis Leia?'

Kirk frowned, searching his memory. Then his brow cleared and he said, 'Of course. The first planet to be colonised in the Archean system. About two hundred years ago, wasn't it?' Doran nodded, and Kirk continued, 'They didn't last long, as I remember.'

Doran nodded again, soberly this time. He said,

'That's right. Within 20 years of its foundation, Staxis Leia succeeded in having the nuclear war that Earth had avoided. The whole planet was completely contaminated and it was assumed that no-one had survived the holocaust.'

Kirk lifted an eyebrow, a habit learned from Spock.

'Was assumed, Admiral?'

'We sent an automated probe ship out on a standard check two months ago. It came back with the information that radiation levels had reached a non-critical state. Not safe enough for re-colonisation, but stable enough to mean that a landing party could go down and suffer no ill effects if standard decontamination procedures were followed.' He paused and Kirk, who had a fair idea of what was coming, waited in silence. 'It also recorded faint traces of mechanical activity coming from beneath the surface.'

'Any life readings?' Kirk asked.

'No. But then, if those readings are life support systems, there might not be. They had the technology to induce a suspended state and the readings from that would be negligible. People have survived for over a century in sleepers before – Khan and his group, for example. Not that I'm suggesting you'll be picking up any megalomaniacs,' he smiled slightly, 'these would just be ordinary citizens, probably the pick of the community. So… that's your mission, Jim. Send down a party, find the survivors – if any – and bring them back to Starbase 11 for rehabilitation. Should be a piece of cake.'

Kirk said nothing. He had learned not to tempt the Fates by taking anything for granted.

Half an hour later, Kirk fairly bounced on to the bridge of the 'Enterprise', carrying a grin that felt like it was spread from ear to ear. It was echoed on the faces of Uhura and Sulu and almost, Kirk could have sworn, on Spock's. At any rate, the Vulcan moved out of the command chair as Kirk approached with something nearing alacrity. He waited until Kirk was settled and then said,

'Welcome aboard, Captain. I trust you are rested?'

Kirk leaned back in his chair and smiled at his First Officer with an innocence that did not deceive either of them.

'I had a very pleasant time, Mr Spock. Yourself?'

'I spent some time devising new additions to the library computer which should prove useful, sir. I have also completely reprogrammed the chess computer and updated it with over 50 Grand Master games, not to mention…'

Kirk laughed softly and Spock turned to look at him, one eyebrow on the rise.

'Sir?'

'It all sounds… most relaxing, Mr Spock.'

'Yes, sir,' the Vulcan nodded gravely, refusing to rise to the bait, 'it was.'

Still smiling, Kirk swung his chair round to face Uhura, noticing at once that she has changed her hair and that she knew that he had noticed. He said,

'Good to see you, Lieutenant. Give me ship-wide audio.'

'Yes, sir,' she responded, smiling back at him. 'You're on, sir.'

'Captain to crew. I hope you are all rested and ready to get back to work. We leave port in two hours. All department heads check systems readiness and report status to Lt. Uhura. Dr. McCoy, Mr Scott, please meet me in the Briefing Room in five minutes. Kirk out.'

Uhura cut the intercom and Kirk turned to the navigation board to find Sulu looking at him expectantly.

'Mr Sulu, plot me a course to Staxis Leia, Archean system, and give me an ETA on warp factor three.'

'Aye, aye sir.' Sulu tackled the board with enthusiasm and Kirk rose and headed for the elevator, nodding to Uhura to take the conn and collecting Spock with a glance.

Great ship. And a crew to match.

They found McCoy and Scott waiting for them in the Briefing Room. After the initial comments had been exchanged ('I heard all about that night, Scotty – you'll never be able to show face in the bar again' and 'Sunk any good mint juleps recently, Bones?' and 'Where the hell were you all last week, Jim?') Kirk outlined their current mission and waited for questions. The first, predictably enough, was from McCoy.

'Just how many survivors are we supposed to be picking up, Captain? And in what state?'

'No idea is the answer to both questions, Bones. Spock?'

Spock looked up from the Briefing Room screen, which was tapped into the library computer.

'Staxis Leia had a population of five hundred and twenty seven thousand, two hundred and twelve when the war broke out, doctor. Our records show that hostilities commenced virtually without warning and even those in the highest echelons of government were unprepared. Life support shelters were not available to the majority of the population. I would not estimate a high level of survival. Neither, incidentally, can Star Fleet Command, or they would not be sending just one ship. It is quite within the realms of probability that there were no survivors at all and that the traces picked up are simply automated systems still running. As for their prospective state of health – if they managed to reach what shelter there was, if they have survived this long…' He lifted his shoulders in the suggestion of a shrug. 'There are too many unknown factors. With no precise data, any comment I might make would be pure speculation.'

'You? Speculate? Heaven forbid,' McCoy murmured.

'Scott, the responsibility for handling any equipment we might find down there will be yours,' Kirk said. 'Any guesses on the type of life support system they might be using?'

'Could be one o' several, Captain, or even a mixture of them a'. Bomb shelters with re circulated and decontaminated air – in which like case we'd be dealing wi' third or fourth generation survivors – or sleeper capsules like the aines we found on Khan's ship would be the maist likely and well within their capabilities. They might ha' had time to come up wi' something mair sophisticated, but I canna really say. My team will be prepared for anything, though, you can rest assured of that.'

'Well,' Kirk said crisply, 'what it seems to boil down to is that we're just going to have to go and find out for ourselves. Scott, what's the engineering situation?'

'Croonin' like a bairn and ready when you are, Captain,' his Chief Engineer replied enthusiastically.

Kirk switched the viewing screen to the bridge and said to the intercom, 'Mr Sulu, what's that estimate?'

'At warp three, sir, we'll make planetfall in two weeks, three days and twelve hours, sir.'

'Good enough. Prepare to engage warp at Mr Scott's signal.'

Scott rose and moved swiftly to the door. 'I'll jist awa' and see to ma engines, sir…'

Yet another man who was more than happy to get back to space again. Recreation was all very well, but the best thing about it was that it made getting back into harness all the sweeter. Kirk looked at his remaining two officers with a somewhat wry grin.

'Let's get to it, gentlemen. McCoy, full physical update on all crew members. Spock, plan me a session of exercises and manoeuvres that will get this crew back into top shape. And Spock… that includes me, too. Workout in the gym this evening?'

'As you please, sir. I, however, have been exercising regularly during the past four weeks.' Only Kirk would have dared describe the expression on the Vulcan's face as smugness.

'I shall be on my guard, Mr Spock,' he said gravely, ' although I think I should warn you that I have too.'

McCoy glanced at his captain's impossibly straight face, and rose.

'C'mon, Spock, you really don't want to know the kind of exercise he means… Let's go mind the store.'

Yes, indeed, thought Kirk, and headed for the bridge to watch his ship sail out of port and into the stars again.

They made planetfall on Sulu's estimate almost to the minute. The crew were on top form and ready for anything from searching a city to taking on a Klingon battle fleet (though Kirk devoutly hoped that situation would never arise.) Once they were in orbit, Spock checked and re-checked the probe's readings. The atmosphere was indeed still contaminated, but a landing party could survive several days if necessary providing correct precautions were taken. A planetwide scan indicated only once source of mechanical activity, underneath what had been the planet's main city, Staxis.

'I estimate the power to be sufficient to maintain 97 life support systems of the type available in that era,' Spock said, from his hooded viewer at the science console. 'Certainly not more.'

'97,' Kirk said softly, 'out of half a million. My God.' There was a moment of silence. The he said, 'Recommendations for landing party, Mr Spock?'

'Myself, of course, Captain,' the Vulcan said promptly. 'Chief Medical Officer and Chief Engineering Officer, with selected staff.'

Kirk raised an eyebrow.

'And?' he prompted.

'And the captain, sir,' Spock said blandly.

Kirk nodded.

'Agreed. Uhura, page Scott and McCoy. Have them select minimum staff and meet myself and Spock in the transporter room in ten minutes. Also security guards Baines, Duval and M'Bila. Sulu, take the conn.'

'Sir,' Uhura and Sulu said together.

Kirk remained seated for a moment, experiencing a brief qualm. The landing party comprised most of the senior officers on board. If an emergency should arise…

Spock was at his side, divining his thought in the way he so often did with that peculiar contact of his that was sometimes only one step away from telepathy.

'Sir, there are no life form readings on the planet's surface and I can find no trace of any other ship in the area. I anticipate no danger.'

'No, Mr Spock.' Still, no harm in being on the safe side. 'Sulu, we'll contact the ship at hourly intervals. Should we fail to make contact at the appointed time, lock on and beam us up. And start shouting if you come out with even a hint of something unusual out there.'

Kirk rose and headed for the elevator, Spock at his side.

The landing party comprised nine in all – Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scott, Christine Chapel, Scott's second in command Grace de Maurier and the three security guards. Kirk sent Spock down first with the security contingent and then followed with the rest of the team.

They materialised in the main square of Staxis. It had been a lively, bustling city by all accounts, a centre of trade and entertainment, but now it was one of the most unutterably desolate sights Kirk had ever seen.

The place was dead. No plants, not even the hardier weeds, had managed to struggle back to life between the cracked and broken stones that paved the square and the streets that led from in all directions. There was not one building standing in its entirety. Most had been razed to the ground, leaving a few precariously balanced walls of heat-blasted stone to relieve the flat monotony of the view. Under the washed-out blue of the sky a featureless expanse of grey upon grey, dust, rubble and ruin stretched to the horizon.

The security guards had fanned out in standard formation and were prowling round the perimeter of the square. Kirk had to restrain an impulse to tell them not to bother. He could not imagine anything, alien or human, living in this wasteland.

McCoy moved to stand beside Kirk, an unusually grim expression on his face. When he spoke, his voice was flat but Kirk could sense the deep anger and frustration underlying the words.

'They must have been mad, Jim. Mad. The nuclear threat on Earth was over by the time they settled here and yet they learned nothing. What a waste.'

Spock looked up from his tricorder and said, 'Not mad, doctor. Greedy. Hungry for power. It was a war between political factions fighting for control of the planet and the right to dispose of its vast mineral wealth. Your history is full of such instances.'

'I don't need a lecture on history, Spock!' McCoy snapped.

'I was not attempting to lecture, doctor. I was merely attempting to point out…'

'Gentlemen,' Kirk interrupted, 'enough. You can discuss the philosophies in your own time. Spock, have you pinpointed the power source?'

'Yes, Captain. It is coming from beneath that building.' He nodded in the direction of a structure (although that was an overstatement) some two hundred yards to their left. Kirk beckoned to the landing party and, leaving one of the security guards on sentry duty in the square, they made their way slowly across the rubble towards the ruin Spock had indicated. Half on one wall was still standing and above the burnt and pitted door they could still make out one word – hospital.

McCoy looked sick and Kirk did not imagine he looked much better himself. Even Spock had an unusually stony expression on his face by this time. Without a word, the landing party slipped and slithered over mounds of broken glass and crushed bricks. The clatter of rocks was the only sound in that deathly silence.

'Here, Captain,' Spock said suddenly and Kirk almost jumped, the noise was so unexpected. Balanced precariously on uneven stones, Spock was pointing to a spot directly between his feet.

'A trapdoor set flush with the floor, sir. Readings say re-inforced steel lined with concrete. And the power source is below it, about 200 metres down.'

Kirk waved Spock out of range, set his phaser to 'stun' and levelled it at the ground where Spock had been standing. Three seconds later he had cleared the rubble from above the door. It was about eight feet by six, its steel dulled and scratched by the stone that had lain over it for all those years. It was, as Spock said, set flush with the concrete floor and there was no sign of a handle or control that would open it.

'Scott,' said Kirk, but his chief engineer was already on his knees, running his fingers round the edge of the door.

'Pneumatic, sir,' he said eventually, rising and brushing the dust from his knees. 'And frequency operated, I'd say. Mr Spock, gi' me your tricorder for a minute…' Spock handed it over and Scott began to fiddle with the dials, producing excruciating shrieks of noise. 'No way o' knowing what setting they used, but I'm counting on it that it'll no' ha' been complicated,' he added to Kirk over the increasing din.

'I hope not,' Kirk said, with a grimace.

Scott cast him a sympathetic grin as the tricorder, on a steady note now, began to work its way down the frequency scale.

Just as Kirk was beginning to think that he would have to give the order to blast the door open, there was a low, grinding hum and it began to rise slowly upwards on steel pylons until it hung six feet above them. De Maurier had come laden with sundry pieces of portable equipment, among them a large and powerful flashlight. Scott took this from her and swung it round the interior.

'Steps, sir. And going down a good long way, too.'

Scott and Kirk went down alone. The steps were steep and Kirk counted 120 before giving up to concentrate on keeping his footing. The air was dry and musty and smelt of decay. When the steps levelled off, they were facing another re-inforced door.

'If there are survivors, they're down here,' Scott said. 'Can ye hear it?'

Kirk strained his ears. Very faintly, as if from a long way off, he could just make out the low hum of machinery. Scott ran the flashlight round the edge of the door. It caught and held on a control panel to the right, which he moved to examine.

'I think I can operate this, if it still works,' he muttered, 'I'd rather no' blast in through this door if I can help it… Aye, there she goes.'

Jerkily and reluctantly, the door was sliding open. Kirk called up the stairwell to Spock and McCoy and waited with barely leashed impatience as they clambered down to meet them. When they were all four standing in the open doorway, Scott ran his flashlight round the room before them.

The mutter of machinery was much louder now and they could see why. Rank upon rank of huge computer complexes clustered round the walls and stood in the centre of a vast, shadowy hall. Massive things, old-fashioned and cumbersome. But working. Scott drew a deep, awed breath.

'Aye,' he said slowly, 'it's a sleeper unit. That's an air decontamination unit,' he pointed with the flashlight, 'and that's a cryogenic cooler. Come on, Mr Spock, let's see if we canna shed some light on the subject…' He and Spock disappeared into the darkened recesses of the room, their elongated shadows flickering eerily on the walls.

'It just… might be,' McCoy growled. 'With this lot keeping them going, their must be some survivors. Keep your fingers crossed, Jim.'

'And my toes,' Kirk responded. Not joking, either.

The lights came on suddenly and they both blinked in the bright neon glare. Scott was making some adjustments to the main control panel and Spock was prowling round the far side of the room. Leaving McCoy to gather the landing party together, Kirk crossed to join him. His boots raised little fountains of dust as he walked.

Spock had halted before the only other door in the room. This one had a small, thick glass panel set into it at eye level. Kirk peered in but could see nothing; inside was still in total darkness. He cocked an eyebrow at Spock.

'Any life readings?'

'Several, Captain. Faint… but alive.'

They took their time. An hour or so spent now might mean life or death and would matter very little to people who had been asleep for over 200 years.

Spock, Scott and de Maurier checked every circuit and every program of the life support systems, discovering that of 76 capsules originally occupied, only 15 were still functioning. McCoy, his medicorder plugged into the main computer, determined that of those 15, six occupants were dead, four might or might not survive when they were revived and five had a more that 86% chance of being wakened successfully. The main computer also produced a numbered chart of the sleeper units in the internal room, which McCoy marked up for his nurses showing which were to be tackled first, so that the maximum number of lives could be saved. Stretchers and portable decontamination units were beamed down from the ship.

In the end, they stood tense before that final door, knowing that everything technology could do had been done. The storage tanks in the freezers had been emptied of their cryogenic gases and slowly refilled with oxygen. Massive doses of nutrients and stimulants had been administered intravenously. Spock, monitoring the computer, reported and gradual increase in heartbeat and life signs among the survivors.

McCoy drew a deep breath and nodded to Spock to throw the final switch.

The lights in the inner room came on.

The door opened.

McCoy and his team exploded into action.

Kirk, feeling useless, followed slowly and took a good look at the remnants of a civilisation.

It was a large room and had the look of being completed in a hurry. The stones that paved the floor were uneven in size and some had been just hastily fixed, so that walking was accompanied by an eerie rocking motion. The sleepers were banked three high, twelve along each side of two of the walls. The third wall showed that an attempt had been made to fit other, for steel plates and wiring were scattered around, but they had been left unfinished. Lack of time, Kirk wondered? Or simply a typical human refusal to believe that the worst would happen?

Most of the units were still dark, only those which contained people still alive having been lit. The glass panels were opaque, in any case. Just as well, perhaps.

The room, dead and silent for so long, was alive with activity now. McCoy was snapping orders into his communicator and to his nurses as fast as he could get the words out. Three stretchers were now occupied but as Kirk moved over to take a closer look the transporter whisked them up to the ship and Sickbay. Kirk took another step and found Spock at his side.

'Bones! Anything we can do?'

'Keep out of the bloody way and let us get on with the job,' McCoy growled, not raising his eyes from the apparently lifeless body of a young man just placed on a stretcher beside him. But Christine Chapel called from further down the room,

'Captain, we can't get this one open. It seems to be stuck.'

It was the last one, which meant it had to be the man or woman McCoy had deemed the most likely to survive the trauma of re-awakening. Well, he or she wasn't going to lose that chance if Kirk could help it. He bombed down the room and grasped the catch that Chapel could not force open. Spock took hold of its twin on the other side.

It was not going to give.

After several heart-stopping moments, it did.

The glass window came forward and then slid neatly back into the wall, bringing forward the slab inside, and its occupant.

There was a short, stunned pause. Then Chapel said, almost as if the words were forced from her,

'Oh my God, Captain, she's…'

Kirk said, 'Holy shit,' in tones of awe.

Spock said nothing, but one eyebrow rose very steeply indeed.

McCoy elbowed his way past them, saying snappily,

'What the devil's going on here, Jim? All the others are decontaminated and in Sickbay, let's get this one…'

The words died in his throat as his eyes fell on his last patient but they acted on Kirk like an incantation. Beckoning to the remaining orderly, he lifted her from the sleeper himself. Her body felt cool but supple in his arms. Over the head resting on his shoulder, his eyes met McCoy's.

'She has to make it, Bones.'

McCoy nodded and seemed to forget to stop. His head was still moving when the transporter beams took them.

Kirk reported back to the bridge, recorded his log and made it down to Sickbay in fifteen minutes flat. McCoy met him at the door of his office, looking as if he had been through a major war that afternoon – which he probably had, Kirk thought; his own decisions had sent men to their deaths before now, but it was McCoy who had to pick up the pieces each time. The doctor opened his medicine cabinet, brought out his treasured bottle of Saurian brandy and two glasses, poured out generous measures for both of them and then plonked himself unceremoniously behind his desk. Kirk joined him, perched on the edge of the desk.

'Well, Bones?'

McCoy took a deep swig of the brandy before he replied. Then he said,

'Seven of them survived the beam-up and decontamination process. Four men, two women and a boy. The rest of them couldn't handle having their molecules scrambled by that soulless hunk of machinery. We've got our survivors hooked up to life support now. If they're going to wake up, it'll be in the next couple of hours. Goddammit!' His fist crashed into the table, setting the glasses dancing. ' Seven people. Out of a whole bloody civilisation, seven bloody people!'

Kirk reached out, grasped the tense shoulder, looked into the haunted blue eyes.

'You did what you could, Bones. Not our fault.'

'Isn't it? Don't you just sometimes feel that we should be wiped from the universe because we are a species that just can't help cocking it up? Give us a heaven and we'll excavate a hell.'

'An interesting observation, doctor, ' Spock said, from the doorway, 'and one I have often made myself – in somewhat less colourful language, of course.'

'Of course,' McCoy agreed, his voice heavily laden with sarcasm.

Kirk watched the Vulcan surreptitiously , knowing he was baiting McCoy to help him release some of the pain the day had brought him, knowing that of the three of them it was Spock, the alien, who had perhaps the greatest insight into the human soul.

'Can we see our passengers, Bones?' Kirk asked, meaning really could he see just one, and McCoy knew it. He rose and led them through to Sickbay.

All of the beds were occupied and each had a doctor or nurse watching the monitors like hawks. As they passed the first bed, the readings on the screen rose sharply and then plummeted to zero. Kirk heard McCoy swear softly under his breath as he snatched up a hypo and went over.

There was obviously nothing Kirk could do, so after a momentary hesitation he moved on, Spock two paces behind him. The man McCoy was working on was the oldest, fifty possibly. The rest were between twenty and thirty, except for the boy, who was barely into his teens.

Kirk stopped by the last bed.

She looked even more beautiful here. A faint rose colour stained her cheeks and a pulse beat slowly in the blue-shaded hollow at the base of her throat. The hair fanned around her was flame.

'How is she?' he asked Chapel, who was sitting attentively at the bedside.

'Fighting, sir,' was the consoling response.

Behind him, Spock made a sharp, uncontrolled movement. Kirk turned to him in surprise, opening his mouth to comment.

And then he felt it too.

A sort of… fish hook twisting in his head. It reminded him of – what? And it was growing insistently urgent and powerful. He fought down the surge of panic that threatened to engulf him and said sharply,

'Spock! That's not…'

Christine Chapel had gone white to the lips. All over Sickbay, voices were being raised, questioning, fearful. McCoy came rocketing over to them, his face shockingly pale.

'Jim! What the hell's going on?'

Spock nodded towards the woman on the bed with an obvious effort and answered Kirk's unfinished question.

'No, Captain. It is not I. I do not have the telepathic capacity to create such a disturbance.'

'She's telepathic,' Kirk stated, over the increasing sensation of absolute terror.

'Unquestionably. Powerful… and completely untrained.'

'But that's not menace she's transmitting, Spock.'

'No, sir, it is not,' the Vulcan agreed. His face was ashen. 'It is blind, unreasoning fear. Just as dangerous when undirected. She is lashing out wildly and she mustbe stopped.'

He staggered, and McCoy caught him. One of the nurses gave a shrill scream and began to sob. Chapel had crammed her fingers in her mouth and was shaking. They were all bound into a panic that was not their own.

Kirk hesitated for a split second, then did the only thing he could. He grasped her hand and opened his mind as far as he was able.

- You are safe. Read me. It's over, and you are safe. Read me… -

It had always worked with Spock.

But this was not Spock.

This was a woman with two centuries of nightmares in her mind.

And she was twice as powerful.

He felt her mind tear into his, jagged and raw, and cling there. He saw it all as she had seen it. Felt it all with her. And thought he must die of the agony.

From somewhere very far away, a voice was shouting, 'No! Captain… Jim, no!'

Hands were pulling at him, but her mind would not let him go.

Something exploded in his head with a crack of blinding light and he dived down into darkness and horror.