The four Federation figures shimmered into existence, as Picard had promised, right in the centre of Hypnos' Eastern Continent's largest city. Gina recognised the scenery as soon as the transporter beam had faded from sight; in fact, even through the sparkle of the beam, she could make out the unmistakeable scene before her.
"It's not what I was especting," Crusher announced, taking it all in. She saw the battered ruins in the distance, where the northern parts of the city were still very much in disrepair, where the rennovation had not yet reached. And she also saw the shiny, newly-built building complexes. The stark contrast made her uneasy.
"I agree," Worf conceded in his usual gruff tones. "Thankfully, though, the city seems to have avoided the worst of the seismic disturbances."
"For now," Gina muttered.
"The captain has ordered that we split into two groups, each consisting of two crewmembers," came Data's bland voice. "I suggest that Lieutenant Monroe and I work together, for we know the culture relatively well. We are probably the better choice as regards speaking with the Hypnite leaders."
"I guess you're with me, Worf," Crusher declared. The Klingon looked indifferent.
"Doctor Crusher," the android went on. "Your skills as a physician are near unparalleled. It would indeed be profitable if you were able to investigate some of the victims of the recent events. Lieutenant Worf, you are to accompany the doctor in case of... altercations."
Crusher looked a bit indignant, knowing that she was capable of looking after herself. But she knew that she would likely need the Klingon's help.
And so the teams went off on their separate ways to attend to their various tasks. Lieutenant Worf and Doctor Crusher walked for little more than a mile when the doctor's medical tricorder beeped at her excitedly. The Klingon frowned down at it. "What is it?" he asked.
Crusher drew the machine closer to her face and studied the readings. "It seems that we've found what we've been looking for."
"People?" Worf inquired.
"Yes. A person." Crusher kept glancing down at the machine. "About one hundred feet away... ninety... fifty... ten..."
Worf harrumphed. "They should be right here. Where are they?"
Crusher looked equally puzzled. She surveyed their surroundings; they had walked a few kilometers or so away from what must have been the wealthiest part of the neighborhood and into one of the rougher area. She could tell just by looking at the buildings here that they were not well-built, and the earthquakes had done much to destroy them anyway. Back where Gina and Data where, it was evident that the rich had the money and the means to knock down their old residences which were littered with wreckage and memories of the conflict with Thanatos. But here, no such thing happened.
Worf assumed that they were walking past a row of houses, but none of them looked fit for habitation. There were great chunks missing out of roofs where missiles had created holes, there were piles of wreckage lying loose in the streets, there were uprooted trees – their roots obviously weakened as a result of the geological disturbances – lining the way.
"Ah hah," Crusher muttered upon a satisfactory look at her tricorder readings.
But Worf had left her. He was already walking to the thing displayed on the tricorder. "Doctor," he called, rather urgently.
Crusher followed his voice and despaired at the sight. She never did forget a face, despite all of those hundreds of patients that she must have treated, especially when their story was as unique as was this person's.
"Doctor Crusher?" came the quiet enquiry.
"Yes, that's me. Don't talk right now," Crusher said calmly, too focused on her work to register that the strange alien man knew her name. She waved her tricorder over him. His once green skin was darkened and clouded over with a swathe of mud, his light hair covered in grime. "Worf, pass me that beam." The Klingon did so. "Broken right tibia. Dislocated collarbone. Fractured wrist. We need to make a splint."
With Worf holding one end of a piece of timber which must have fallen from a roof and her the other, the fixed it to the back of the injured man's leg. He groaned in pain and Crusher fished out a hypospray, which she injected into his arm. "There. That should quell the pain." She then retrieved her osteo-regenerator and waved it over his wrist. But then she frowned. "Dammit!" she cursed, flinging the offending device to one side.
"What is it?" Worf enquired, studying the wounded man.
"Looks like Geordi's tinkering hasn't worked. The radiation from this planet must have affected the bone regenerator."
The injured man looked grim. "Is there anything you can do?"
Crusher, despite everything, managed a smile. He didn't have an injured back or neck so she got Worf to get the man into a seated position. "I can ease the pain," she said. "And I can relocate your shoulder. It shouldn't be too much trouble with the painkillers."
The man nodded his consent and Crusher carried out the procedure. Sure enough, with the right amount of anaesthetic, the man didn't feel a thing.
"Do you know who I am?" the man asked of the doctor.
Her eyes widened and shw cast her mind back. "Yes... I believe I do... Kiras, isn't it?"
Worf cleared his throat. "But you are Thanatosian."
Kiras raised an eyebrow at the Klingon's not-so-astute observation.
Worf continued. "What are you doing here? On the planet of your oppressors?"
Kiras managed a laugh, though it made him ache a bit. "I've got nothing left on Thanatos. My homeworld was destroyed. I couldn't afford to get home even if I wanted to. I've been here ever since."
Crusher wracked her brains. "But surely you returned to Thanatos after the Enterprise picked you up?"
Again, Kiras laughed bitterly. "Oh, I did. Of course I went home to see my family, but they'd all gone. They'd all died. So I came here, to Hypnos."
"To seek revenge?" Worf inquired.
Kiras looked at the security officer and said nothing.
Crusher shook her head. Revenge. But right now, she had other things to think about, more important things. "What happened to you?"
"My injury?" Kiras inquired. Upon the doctor's nod, he sighed and rubbed his injured leg. "I wasn't asking for trouble if that's what you think." He paused. "I've kind of been... how to say it? Living rough ever since. I just sort of drift from here to there, but I've been sleeping... well, in this pile of rubble for a week now."
"And there are others who are wounded?"
Kiras nodded. "Probably."
"Doctor," came the Klingon's gruff, urgent voice. "The tricorder's picking up those signals again. Signs of life."
"Thanatosian or Hypnite?"
"Hypnite," Worf replied. He then growled as his tricorder buzzed angrily at him and died. "Damn machine!" he cursed. "This radiation!"
Crusher sighed.
"Don't feel that you have to stay here with me," Kiras said, honestly. "You're a doctor. I understand. Tend to some people who need you."
She looked down at him, at the pitiful young man who was just a pawn in a much bigger game. He didn't have anything to do with any of this upset. He was just caught up in all of it. He wasn't very old, which made it all the more worse. Crusher wondered. He couldn't have been much older than Wesley. But she fought away maternal instincts; now, she was a doctor. "We'll have to leave you here."
"I know," Kiras said in acceptance. "I could try to walk but that'd probably be inadvisable."
"You're right there, young man," Crusher said, managing a smile. "You can't walk... but you could be carried." She glanced at Worf, who was wrestling with his troublesome tricoder.
