1Star Trek is not mine. Morlin and Turita are. So are the other inhabitants . . . who should show up next chapter.

Chapter Three

Spock opened his eyes. He could still see nothing. The arrow must have been poisoned, he realized. He considered calling for help, but no one would understand him. Besides, this race thought it a sign of great weakness to ask for help.

"Oh, you're awake. Good," a voice said. Spock immediately recognized it as the one who had shouted before--female, but considerably lower than was normal.

"No; don't try to sit up," the voice was firm but gentle. Spock abandoned his attempts. They hadn't been going well, anyway.

Instead, he tried to speak. "You're speaking . . . English."

"Yeah. Your little gadget was easy enough to fix. I'm afraid my brother ran off with the other one. He saw you use it; that's why he shot you. He feared you were a spy."

"I'm not."

"I guessed that. A spy would've tried to run. It wouldn't have made a difference, though."

"Then what would be the point in running?"

"Better than standing around and waiting to get shot."

"Where are we?"

"In a cave a little ways from where we were."

"How far away will your brother be by now? It's very important that no one learns of this . . . gadget."

"Too far away to catch, and, in any case, I'm not leaving you here. He's only under orders to destroy such objects; whatever secrets it may carry, he will not learn them."

"So he will destroy it?"

"He has probably done so already."

"How long has it been?"

"A twenty-fifth of a rotation of the sun."

"Is this blindness permanent?"

"Curious, aren't you? I have no idea. It was my brother's own special potion, and he's never tested it before. You're lucky you're not dead."

Spock was about to point out that luck didn't exist, but decided against it. It wouldn't be wise to upset whoever was with him. Instead, he tried to make conversation, at least until she decided to let him try to move.

"So how old is your brother?"

"58 seasons."

That was fourteen and a half years. "And you?"

"We're twins. Everyone here has a twin, as I guess you know, but boy-and-girl twins are rare. My parents didn't want things to be complicated, so I was raised with the boys."

"Practical."

"I guess. I just always considered myself one of them. Oh, I'm sorry. My name's Morlin."

"Spock."

"Good to meet you, Spock. I know the . . . circumstances . . . are less than perfect."

"To say the least.

Morlin laughed a little, a low, sad laugh. "I know. You'd probably like to get back to wherever you're from. I've been away from my family, too. It's not easy being around people you don't know, in a strange place where you don't know the language or understand the customs. My brother and I are roamers." She lowered her voice. "Spock, I know you're not from this planet."

Spock tried to raise an eyebrow, but even that slight movement set his head pounding again.

Morlin got the point, anyway. "Not all of us are afraid of newcomers, or of change. I welcome people who are different. I know you can't see, but I only have one leg. I've never had my right one. That's the real reason I'm so much of a traveller. No one wants me around."

"And your brother?"

"Well, twins almost always stay together, so I guess he was destined to share my fate. When I use my crutch, there's almost nothing he can do that I can't. Okay, so I can't juggle with my feet, but that's beside the point."

"Fascinating."

"I've managed to lock onto his communicator, Captain. He's the only one in the area. He must be hurt or he'd respond," Scotty reported.

"Beam him up," Kirk ordered without hesitation. He and Doctor McCoy rushed to the transporter room.

The person who materialized, however, was not Spock, but a native child. "Who on Earth?" Kirk demanded.

"I'm Turita," the boy replied. "Who are you?"

"Captain Kirk. Where's my first officer?"

"Your what?"

"The man you got that device from--the one in your hand!"

"Jim, take it easy on him," McCoy suggested quietly. "I want to find Spock, too, but for all we know, this boy found his communicator on the ground. There's no need to scare him."

"I'm not scared," Turita objected. "A true warrior is never afraid. I am not afraid of you. I am a warrior."

Kirk took a deep breath, counted to ten, and reminded himself this was a primitive civilization. Then he tried again.

"Where did you find that device?"

"An enemy spy."

Well, at least they thought Spock was an inhabitant of the same planet. But an enemy spy wouldn't fare much better than a visitor from another world. "Where is this spy?" McCoy asked.

"I shot him. My sister is holding him for questioning, if he lives."

McCoy bit his tongue to keep from swearing around the child. Why did Spock have to be so brave? Why couldn't he have stayed on the ship like any normal person? Why hadn't he at least taken his phaser? He'd volunteered to do some crazy things before, but nothing like this.

"Where am I?" Turita asked, breaking McCoy's train of thought. "What is this new way of bringing people from one place to another? A way to kidnap enemies, I suppose."

"Please; we're not your enemies," Kirk said. "We just want some answers. Where is your sister?"

"I will not tell you."

"Very well. Bones, find Turita a room. He may be here a while."

"Sir?" Scotty asked once McCoy had escorted Turita out of the room.

"If we transport him back now, he will tell his people what he has seen here. Is something down there interfering with our scans?"

"Aye, sir. Everything reads as a life form, but no more. You couldn't tell a Vulcan from a baboon down there."

"Can you find the problem?"

"Aye, but it'll take some time."

"Then it'll take time. We'll get no help from Turita. Not yet, at least."

"If you don't mind my asking, what does that mean?"

"We cannot return him to his village yet. But if we can convince him we are not spies, if we tell him who we are, he might realize what we're trying to do--that we just want a member of our crew returned. If by telling one boy everything he wants to know I can save a planet from contamination and save Spock from dying, I'll do it."

"Spock, I have something to tell you."

"Go ahead."

"I was supposed to watch you here until my people could arrive to take you to our village for questioning. We need to go; they will be here soon. It will hurt to walk, but it will hurt even more later if you stay."

"I understand."

"Okay. Just get up slowly. Don't try any sudden moves; that'll just hurt more. Believe me, I know. I've let my brother try out some potions on me. There. That's right; bit by bit. Here. Lean on me."

"Is that wise?"

"I have my crutch; I can walk just fine. Thanks for asking, though."

Morlin was right; the pain was terrible, but Spock could control it, and the teenager was amazed that he leaned on her really only for direction, for his vision hadn't improved. Soon they arrived at a large tree. Morlin helped Spock sit down.

"I'm going to go erase our footprints; that'll buy us some time," she explained. "We can't outrun them, but we can make them look. If they find us, we'll have no choice but to fight."

"What's your plan?"

"Plan? Am I supposed to have a plan?" Morlin laughed. "Oops. My mistake. Um . . . we can think of a plan later."

Bug the Slytherin – No, the language isn't related to English at all. I completely made it up. Except Morlin. That's Elvish for Darksong. Hmmm . . . good point about the devices . . . . would have to have been a pretty hard fall, huh? Those things do seem pretty hard to break. Good one about the arrow, too. It seems Morlin isn't going to tell him where he was hit. :) In other words, I have no idea. I needed him to go unconscious for a little while, but I don't want to kill him yet. :) Muahahahahahaha.