A/N: Hey there! I've been working long and hard on the Raw Elements "sequel". When I say sequel, I mean thematic sequel. I'm afraid to touch anything from ICE because I'll ruin it. But anyway. This is it, right here. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the product of 4 months of procrastination.

FIRE

"What's our bearing, Mr. Chekov?"

"We are rapidly approaching the Hephasten system, Keptin. Estimated arrival time is 3.2 hours, sir!"

"Thank you Mr. Chekov." Captain Kirk sat back in his chair. The obscure little system in the outlying regions of the Beta Quadrant (The Enterprise had been careful to give the Romulan and Klingon empires a wide berth) had captured Starfleet's attention. Before the Enterprise had been sent to investigate, the Federation had paid little attention to the largely unexplored system. Starfleet was especially wary of the close proximity of the Hephasten system to the Neutral Zone, and wished to avoid all possible conflicts with the surrounding (a word here meaning easily irritable or excitable) empires.

That was before the little scientific vessel picked up a transmission.

The Vulcan ship T'Vaan was scheduled to dock at a nearby Starbase to deposit samples and research from a large cloud of what turned out to be an alcoholic substance (naturally formed, oddly enough), when they picked up a transmission. The message was coded, but not in any code a civilization had used for centuries. It was Morse. The T'Vaan had quickly deciphered the message by running the whole thing through their computers with exact Vulcan accuracy. The original message was sent off to Starfleet HQ:

Save Our System—The saying we employ;

We find the problem increases by day

Hephasten we are, a people quite large.

We require aid at the best speed. Please

Send help to remedy the disaster.

Here, it is our people's darkest hour.

Needless to say, Starfleet had been intrigued by the Hephasten plea for help, far away and rather recluse as they were. The Enterprise was ordered out with all dispatch to investigate the crisis in the quiet system with all haste.

Captain Kirk surveyed the bridge once again. He was getting a bit restless. Kirk had been on the bridge for several hours, and unsettling feeling creeping further into his conscious thought with every passing moment. None of this seemed wholly right. His suspicions had been aroused once he'd learned of the communications in Morse code. It was common knowledge that the Terran civilizations had used Morse code for secret messages or distress signals. Heck, Kirk thought, It's in all the history books at the Academy. I'm sure there's not a civilization acquainted with the Federation that hasn't heard of it. But, the nagging doubt remained. Despite all of his efforts to emulate his First Officer and logically assuage his fears, Kirk was still on his guard.

As strange as the method of delivery was, the message itself was even stranger. The Vulcans had done a perfect job decoding the message- a simple enough code to crack, if the key had been public knowledge for centuries- but apart from the request for aid it made no sense. "A melodramatic load of nonsense," the good Doctor McCoy had called it. Kirk was starting to believe him. If this was a trap, it was hardly a clever one. Drawing us in with talk of disaster only to spring… What? This could be a genuine distress call. Kirk thought. How many cultures have we encountered with customs that differed vastly from our own? For all we know, this could be the Hephasten epitome of brevity and distress! Either way, he was duty-bound to answer the distress call, no matter how unusual.

Captain Kirk had expected both possible outcomes, and made provisions for them. Doctor McCoy's team in Sickbay was prepping for survivors and the injured, while his Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott was tuning up the weapons systems and running diagnostics on the hitch in the turbolift. Why not check on Scotty, see that everything's going smoothly? He pressed a button on the arm of the chair to initiate communications.

"Bridge to Engineering."

"This is Engineering. Scott here."

"How are things running down there, Scotty?"

Kirk heard a clanging noise followed by un-muffled shouts from the Chief Engineer warning that he would "shove ye out the nearest airlock, Crowley, so help me…! Get yersleves under control before I have to come mop up that mess with your- Johnston! Get away from there, bloody idiot!"

The Captain choked back his laughter. Scotty had his hands full, apparently.

"Sorry 'bout that, sir. I've just about got the lifts under control. Phasers are at full power, and the photon torpedoes are ready when you are."

Kirk blinked. "Full power to the phasers? Scotty, wasn't it just an hour ago that we had a power failure?"

"Aye, sir," his CE replied, "That and a malfunction with the Shuttle Bay doors- fixed 'em up nicely- and the Artificial Gravity was off in Deck 3, but I took care o' that, along with the static in the internal communications an' the misaligned locking system on the external inertial dampener. I'm sorry sir, but it's been such a busy morning, I haven't got around to fixin' those sticky doors in the rec room. If we could just—Stop muckin' about, Lieutenant! I've got half a mind t' come down there and rearrange yer- Ahem. Sorry 'bout that sir. Like I was sayin'… I would've been able to get to that earlier-

Kirk decided to cut him off before any of the Engineering Team got too out of hand. "Thank you, Scotty. You're a miracle worker! The sticky doors can definitely take a backseat to… to whatever it is you have going on down there. Excellent work, Kirk out!"

Both men signed off, and Kirk sank back into his chair. Scotty just might be the cleverest man on the Enterprise. Maybe just as quick as…

"Mr. Spock. What kind of Intel do we have on Hepheste I?" Kirk addressed his question directly to his First Officer, swiveling him his chair to face the Vulcan.

Spock immediately retrieved the data from the computer. "Of the two research teams Starfleet has sent to Hepheste I since its admission into the Federation, one conducted geological research and the other a brief cultural analysis."

"Thank you, Spock. What did the geological team find?"

"Initial scans of the planet confirmed Class M status," Spock continued, "as well as atmospheric conditions similar to those of Vulcan. The presence of multiple active volcanoes on the surface limits the amount and location of populated land. Starfleet's meteorology team also documented sandstorms of considerable magnitude that occur periodically in the lands between Hephaste I's three major mountain ranges."

Kirk pondered the information. He had read over the Federation reports already, but with a focus on inter-planetary politics and technological advancement. Apparently, Hephaste I had no major allies, no prominent trade agreements, and little interest in technology past warp-basics. For all this time, they've seemed to be content just keeping to themselves. I wonder what's brought on this sudden need for outside aid? Is this disaster really so severe that an otherwise self-sufficient planet requires a whole starship for the relief effort? Kirk's mind traveled back to darker and more distant times, when 'self-sufficient planets' had been overrun by disaster in a matter of hours. He though of one particular instance when the continued desire for isolation and a ruler's insistence on retaining power had made matters worse. Sometimes, that only escalates the problem. We should be glad Hephaste called on us for help- that lets us know they're still able to do so.

Breaking his train of thought, Kirk turned to face his First Officer once again. "You said something about sandstorms Mr. Spock?"

"Indeed, Captain. Hepheste I has a dry climate and ideal atmospheric conditions for sandstorm development. The reports indicate that the severity of the storms can vary- some are quite moderate by Terran standards, but others are strong enough to rival the sand fires of Vulcan."

Kirk's eyes widened at the mention of the sand fires. If Spock felt it necessary to draw that comparison, then these sandstorms were no laughing matter. The fact that the Vulcan chose to mention them in the first place assured Kirk that on Hephaste, atmospheric disturbances of the like were serious indeed.

"Alright, Spock. We'll need to have the relief crews equipped to handle whatever Hephaste decides to throw at us. Also, is there any specific cultural information that you believe could be useful?"

Spock glanced back at the computer. He had gone over the reports already, and his acute Vulcan memory could remember nearly every detail exactly. But, Spock knew that his ability for computer-speed recall and recap could put the human members of his crew on edge. One grouchy Southern doctor, for example. The secondary glance was made out of courtesy. Without really looking at the screen, Spock answered his Captain.

"The cultural study was brief, but thorough. It appears that the Hephastens, who refer to their collective as the Hephats, live and work within large clan groups run by a matriarch or patriarch. The clan groups are close- the cultural survey reported that an offense to one could incite the entire clan- and should be regarded carefully. Another report indicates mercantile trade as their favored occupation. Successful merchants are highly regarded members of Hephasten society. The report goes continues in detail about the significance of meteorological patterns in the rituals of-"

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. I think that's enough to begin with. Once we've identified the nature and extent of the emergency, we can start working on the more… intricate aspects of Hephasten culture."

"Very well, Captain." Spock replied, returning his attention to the system's charts. Kirk swiveled his chair back around so he was facing the viewscreen. Somewhere, just beyond the Enterprise's immediate sensor range, Hephaste I was waiting for them.

/*\\\

A/N: How was that? Please tell me if I've made a horrendous gaff, or misspelled something (my computer doesn't have spell-check, isn't that weird?) because I probably did. You can never be too careful about "I before E except after C" or whatever. Forget grammar.

Anybody up for a round of spot the Tarsus? I'm not going to allude to it (much) any more though, scout's honor.