The night had been a long one. As was their custom, after his death, the three Klingons had howled Varon's coming to the afterlife, where, doubtless, Kahless would be waiting to welcome a new warrior to his fold. Varon had died with honour; his fate was sealed. Throughout the bitterly cold night on Skara, the three he had left behind stayed by his lifeless body, protecting it from predators, but now that it was morning, they would walk away; there was nothing left of Varon but an empty shell; his spirit was already in Sto-Vo-Kor.
Kravok was in turmoil. He did not understand the emotions that he was experiencing. Where his mind should be occupied with thoughts of revenge, it dwelt on other matters – matters that, in truth, had preoccupied him much of late and which reached to the heart of his Klingon beliefs.
Was he a traitor to his own people if he did not believe all that he had been bred to embrace? He had seen with his own eyes what the Klingon way meant for the peoples of other worlds subjected to Klingon rule. Death, enslavement, suffering, abject misery in the name of furthering the Empire's dominance in the galaxy. But he had also seen another way. The way of the United Federation of Planets, which sought, not to subjugate the worlds it encountered, but to negotiate with them, co-operate with them; surely this was the better way?
Kravok looked at his companions, ahead of him on the path, as if fearful that they could hear his thoughts. H'Narth led the way; he outranked Kravok and T'Hana. Neither had protested; of the three, only H'Narth had militaristic ambitions – he had made no secret of his desire to command his own ship. For Kravok and T'Hana, their ambitions lay elsewhere; both were scientists, both regarded their service as a duty that must be borne.
Scientists were unimportant to the Empire except where their expertise could be utilised; when a planet was brought under the Klingon yoke, its potential must be fully exploited. Kravok had advised on the mining of useful minerals, had therefore, been responsible for the enslavement of thousands in mines producing the raw materials to further advance the expansionist ambitions of the Klingon military machine.
He had every reason to be proud of his contribution to the glory of the Empire. Instead, he was sickened. And he was not alone in feeling this way. Varon had shared his disgust; Varon's stout warrior heart had been all Klingon but it was he who had opened Kravok's heart to other possibilities. With Varon dead, would he, Kravok still have the resolve to defect to the Federation, for was not that where all these thoughts and doubts inevitably led?
Kravok looked to his companions again, sure that his hammering thoughts must be loud enough to stop them in their tracks. T'Hana looked over her shoulder at him, then called out to H'Narth. Kravok felt a wave of weakness wash over him that he hoped was not fear. Then, he was on his knees, and then he tasted earth as his face made contact with the ground, then nothing.
Night again. He remembered the long, cold night of watching over Varons's body and setting off in the morning with T'Hana and H'Narth to find water, somewhere to shelter. Now it was dark again, silvery dark for Skara had many moons that danced and wavered even as he tried to bring them into focus.
"You're awake." T'Hana's voice.
"How long?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"Hours. What counts for a day on this world," T'Hana answered as she held a flask to his parched lips, letting cool water dribble over them into his eager mouth.
"You have a fever. The wound on your shoulder must be infected. Her voice, matter of fact but he could detect a note of tension. Did his life mean anything to her other than the fact that if they were to survive on this planet, they would do better three than two.
"Where is H'Narth?"
"He is looking for somewhere to shelter. There is a cave about half a mile
distant. He has taken some of our supplies from the craft there and will return to help take you there." T'Hana looked around as if checking that H'Narth was not about to emerge from the trees.
"Kravok. You must guard your tongue," she whispered. Kravok looked at her, questioningly.
"In the grip of your fever, you said things that it would be wise to conceal from H'Narth." She held Kravok's gaze. "It is fortunate for you that I was the one to stay with you." She nodded once and Kravok understood, or thought he understood, what she wished to communicate. Was it possible that in T'Hana he had an ally? Varon had held her in high regard, he knew, but he had given Kravok no hint that the Klingon woman was, 'one of us.'
"Can you stand?" H'Narth returning moments later looked down at Kravok, doubtfully. Kravok pulled himself to his knees, declining H'Narth's hand, and stood, unsteadily. He allowed his companions to support him for the journey to the cave.
The walk tired him more than he could have believed and he sank gratefully onto the bed of branches and leaves and blankets salvaged from the shuttle that had been prepared for him.
"H'Narth!" he said when they were alone, "I do not wish to be a burden. When the time comes…"
"I will do what must be done. As would T'Hana." H'Narth had not questioned Kravok's hesitation in killing Varon, perhaps because they were brothers, but he had been unable to conceal his scorn. Now he had the upper hand. Kravok would have to be careful to show no other sign of weakness.
Spock's body ached. The puncture wounds on his foot had only partially healed and they throbbed with pain at every step. The many weals inflicted by the feral creature's claws still burned in red and angry streaks over his body. By now he was expending so much energy merely on maintaining control of his pain and of his heightened emotions that there was little left to help him heal; a healing trance was out of the question. He feared that he was holding the others back in their search for the crashed Klingon vessel. Perhaps it had been wrong of him to insist that his injuries were no impediment. T'Sorf, who never seemed far from Spock's side, quickened his pace suddenly to catch up with Hunter. Too late, Spock realised with some irritation that the boy was reporting on his condition.
"Would you like to rest?" Hunter asked, falling alongside him for a moment.
"No. We must continue."
"It's not just your wounds, is it? There's something else." Spock carried on walking, unwilling to respond. "Spock?" Hunter's persistence irritated him.
"Since arriving on this planet, I have been experiencing what I can only describe as 'anxiety' or 'unease.' These are emotions that are quite unfamiliar to me under normal circumstances. The effort of maintaining control is depleting my energy reserves. Since I cannot attribute my present mental state to any other cause, I have concluded that it must be connected to some poison used by the Skarrans on their arrowtips."
Hunter listened attentively, nodding as if he understood perfectly.
"Mr Hunter." Spock asked, "Do you know of any substance on this planet that might be employed to such effect, a plant of some kind, perhaps?"
Kort stopped on the track ahead of them, surveying the land.
"I'm sorry, Mr Spock, we haven't been on Skara long enough to make a study of the local flora and fauna, but we have had a few run-ins with the Skarrans. Fortunately, we've evaded injury. We'll rest here for a bit. Here, take this." He handed the Vulcan a flask and Spock drank; the liquid was not water but something sweet that burned slightly as it slipped down his throat. He raised an eyebrow, questioningly.
"It's non-alcoholic. Made from crushed berries." Kort came and sat by them after a brief scout around the area.
"Yesterday, before I felt unwell and had to retire, you made a curious assertion," Spock said, addressing Hunter. Then, turning to Kort, he said, "Which you diverted my attention from by mentioning Ravik V."
"It was not my intention to divert your attention, Mr Spock." The Klingon answered, "I felt it necessary that you understood our past history, the circumstances of our meeting and our bond. I was afraid that you suspected Mark of sabotage against the Curie because of his connection with me. I wanted to make clear that it was friendship, not treachery that led to us being aboard the Curie's shuttle on that fateful day."
"What was your purpose in hijacking the shuttle? I can think of many other worlds between here and the site of the attack on the Curie that would attract scientists such as yourselves, but few beyond here. Logic dictates, therefore, that you were not forced to land here, but chose to. Skara was your intended destination." Spock was rewarded with a look of annoyance from Kort. Hunter merely nodded.
"I mean this as no insult, Mr Spock, but it didn't require a genius to figure that out." An eyebrow arched into Spock's forehead. Was Hunter teasing him, he wondered?
"What is less obvious," Spock said, "is why you would assume that you were the motivation behind the attack on the Curie."
"I'm not paranoid, Mr Spock. My suspicions are grounded in fact unsubstantiated facts, admittedly… Mr Spock, that thing you do with your eyebrow, does it always reflect a sceptical viewpoint?" Again, the teasing tone. Why did humans find it necessary to infuse even a serious conversation with irrelevant, lighthearted remarks? Spock checked his irritation and listened as Hunter, his tone serious again, carried on.
"You mentioned conspiracies earlier. I do not doubt that sources within Starfleet were responsible for the attack on the Curie. Furthermore, I am convinced that whoever ordered the attack, did so to ensure my death – and Kort's."
"Kort was smuggled aboard. No one knew of his presence on the ship." Spock pointed out the glaring inconsistency. Kort and Hunter both looked at T'Sorf, who looked down. Spock nodded.
"T'Sorf was not meant to have accompanied us. He stowed away, but he was caught on security cameras – the captain instigated a shipwide search, but of course, by then T'Sorf was safely hidden in my cabin with his father."
"The captain would have had no choice but to inform Starfleet that a suspected intruder was aboard. Mr Hunter, was your cabin not searched as a matter of routine?" Spock asked.
"The Curie was not a starship, Mr Spock. There were many civilians aboard, scientists, colonists, and many hiding places. It was not too difficult to keep T'Sorf hidden. Kort and I are somewhat skilled at this by now. And besides, who would suspect a scientist of hiding Klingons in his cabin?"
"I see," said Spock, "You have not yet explained why there should be a conspiracy to kill you and Mr Kort. Does it have something to do with Ravik?"
"Perhaps." Hunter replied. Spock was intrigued. The disastrous occurrences at Ravik V had never been satisfactorily explained. The most likely explanation was that the planet had been bombarded with weapons of massive destructive capacity, yet no trace of them had ever been detected, not least because by the time of the evacuation of survivors, the whole planet was breaking up. Excavations of the rubble that was all that remained of the planet had yielded no answer to date.
"The strikes on Ravik were intended to destroy the science station. The rest was collateral damage. The people who destroyed Ravik didn't care what else lay in the way of their target."
Spock was reminded suddenly of Deneva, of the amoeba-like creature that had gorged itself on whole planetary systems before he, Kirk and McCoy had found a way to halt its deleterious rampage. It had not paused to take stock of the damage it inflicted; it had been a blind, amoral force, a living organism without the restraint of consciousness. Sam, Aurelan, thousands of others - they had been its 'collateral damage.' Was it something like this that had struck Ravik V?
"You are thinking what any decent person would think, Mr Spock. What could possibly justify the deaths of so many innocent lives?"
Spock's face wore its familiar mask of impassivity but he was not without a feeling of curiosity. He found himself willing Hunter to come to the point. Humans were so tiresome with their habit of constructing a story around the facts. In his current state of irritability, Spock had no wish to be distracted by anything but the bare facts. He shivered, suddenly. Like Kort and Hunter, he was wrapped in a sleeveless animal skin that covered his upper torso, but the wind that picked up on Skara in the late afternoon was icy and more than that, the ever-present bite of panic chilled him to the bone.
"Captain Hunter." Spock said, "Am I to understand that you deliberately suppressed information relating to the strikes on Ravik?" He did not wait for the answer, alerted suddenly by a sound nearby.
He stood up but Kort motioned to him, T'Sorf and Hunter to be still. "Skarrans!" the Klingon hissed and he and Hunter pulled Spock into some bushes just as a group of ape-like creatures emerged from the trees ahead of them. They were tall and covered in shaggy, orange-coloured hair that made them look at first glance, like giant relatives of the orang-utans he had seen on Earth, but Spock noticed straight away that they were more evolved than that. All four stood upright and carried long spears tipped with sharpened stones tied in place with criss- crossing vines. Though shielded by long, matted hair and beards, their faces were unmistakably human-like. But it was the intelligence in their faces that struck Spock. These were evolving humanoids, primitive, yet cognisant.
Beside him, Kort and Hunter tensed. Spock had a sudden vision of Mara and Reena wandering alone in the forest, forgetting for a moment that they might have been a projection of his own imagination.
One of the Skaraans emitted a low growl. Then all four spread out, obviously scouting the area. Was it possible that they had picked up their scent? A second later Spock was left in no doubt that the hairy Skaraans were aware of his and his companions' presence. With a speed that denied their bulk, all four crashed towards the bushes where they were crouched in hiding.
Spock saw Hunter draw his weapon just as a hairy hand knocked it from his grasp. Too late, Spock reached for his phaser as a pair of strong arms encircled him, hoisting him into the air, throwing him down and hurling the weapon beyond his reach. Dazed, Spock watched as Kort wrestled with one of the enormous Skaraans and Hunter sparred with another.
Unnoticed, Spock groped for his phaser and set it to stun. He fired on his assailant first, then Kort's. Startled, and with a terrified look, Hunter's attacker fled into the undergrowth, leaving his weapon behind. Three hairy bodies now lay on the ground, twitching. Spock frowned. They should be out cold. He advanced on the nearest one meaning to examine it.
"Mr Spock! Their nervous systems are not as slothful as one might assume. We have approximately five minutes to get out of here." Kort grabbed Spock by the arm and propelled him forwards.
"Make for the river!" Hunter yelled to Kort. "We can wade across." Turning to Spock, he explained, "The Skarrans don't like water." Nor do Vulcans, thought Spock, cringing inwardly when he caught sight of the expanse of surely cold, water ahead. Somehow, with Kort and Hunter's help, he made it to the other side. Only T'Sorf, smaller than the others, needed to swim.
"Up there!" Kort pointed, indicating with his arm, a vantage point about a hundred metres distant, from where they would be able to take stock of their surroundings and defend themselves from attack if the need arose.
Oooooooooooooooooooooo
"Your first encounter with our Skarran friends, Mr Spock. I doubt that you were impressed."
"On the contrary." Spock corrected Kort, "Their physique is most impressive and their weapons, though primitive, quite effective."
Hunter laughed. He did not know how to take this Vulcan with his cutting irony and outwardly solemn demeanour. Was Spock being humorous? He had heard that Vulcans never joked and, indeed, Spock's face betrayed no sign of amusement, but there was a glint of something in his eyes that belied his serious expression.
"There's more to this one that meets the eye," Hunter thought, "He is a man of deliberately hidden depths." Was there anyone close enough to him to be permitted more than a one-dimensional glimpse of the personality he kept so carefully guarded? Hunter hoped so; the Vulcan, he suspected, was a deeply lonely man.
"They're not pursuing us. The phaser probably terrified them and they won't brave the river unless they're in mortal danger, not without some kind of canoe." Kort said. "Let's take a rest."
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
They resumed their trek some time later, this time sticking to the higher ground until the day began to darken. Walking at a distance behind the others, and concentrating on keeping his pain and anxiety at bay, Spock lacked the energy and opportunity to question Kort and Hunter further about Ravik. In the Skarran twilight, he looked wearily towards the distant hills where he had seen the Klingon shuttle plummet from the sky and it seemed that after a whole day's walking, they were no closer to reaching them.
In a cave in the hillside, Spock used his phaser to warm some large stones, providing a welcome heat. Like the others he had waded, waist high across the river and he was soaked through and, for a Vulcan, dangerously cold. He thought suddenly of Dr McCoy and how he would be fussing around him if he were here, hiding his concern behind a show of grouchiness. To his surprise, the thought made Spock wish the doctor, not far away as he surely must be, but close at hand, for all his faults.
T'Hana woke in the night and looked over at her companions. H'Narth was snoring rhythmically, dead to the world but Kravok slept restlessly, the sheen of fever still on his brow. At least he was silent; the treasonous words he had uttered earlier would have earned him instant execution, had they fallen on other ears.
Where did such words come from? T'Hana knew that there were Klingons who were tired of the old ways. Some even spoke of making peace with the Federation, real peace, not the forced co-operation over neutral zones imposed by the Organians. For the time being, the Empire and the Federation existed in a state of suspended reality, poised between peace and outright war.
As a Klingon, T'Hana's dreams should have been of the glory of her people's eventual victory, but as a scientist her passions lay in other things and she could not help but think of the scientific and other advantages of being at peace with the Federation, particularly, of the opportunities for scientific collaboration. It thrilled her and frightened her to know that Kravok too, dreamt of the same eventual outcome. Her own brother had known Varon well and it was from him that she had learned of Kravok's leanings. There were others, she knew, but opponents of the ruling Klingon elite were not in the habit of broadcasting their dissent. Change would come one day, but it would come slowly and from within.
Unable to sleep, T'Hana wrapped herself in a blanket and left the cave. Outside she marvelled at the effect of the moonlight from Skara's many moons. The air she breathed was thin compared to that of her own world but one could become accustomed to that in time, she thought. Without meaning to, she was imagining a whole other future, right here on Skara. It was impossible. H'Narth had spoken of a mission on this planet that had not been revealed to all aboard the ship; as scientists, she and Kravok would be the last to know what that mission was. It would not be long before another ship arrived to ensure that the mission, whatever it was, was carried out, and she, Kravok and H'Narth would be 'rescued."
Back inside the cave, T'Hana watched H'Narth's chest rise and fall as he slept. How easy it would be to slit his throat and let the blood pour forth. She and Kravok would be free. But that would not change the fact that others were coming and they could not stop them.
