Hi again! It's later! Now, I get to tell you what the intrepid expedition runs into! Note: Kahlestra and the archaeologists, etc. are original characters, but I'm borrowing the Klingon scientist Kurak from the TNG episode "Suspicions." Thanks for your reviews! Hope you like this next bit! :)

Chapter Eight

"Mother, I'm telling you: I heard engines. I felt the rumble behind my ears!"

"It's probably just a tremor," Kurak said, pointedly fixing her attention on the datasets displayed on her console. "Get back to your studies, Kahlestra. School starts again in four weeks, and my daughter will not shame me by arriving unprepared!"

The young Klingon growled and stood, pushing the stacks of tablets and data padds from the table, where they scattered and skittered across the prefab lab's grated floor.

"I know what I heard! There's someone at the site, Mother. Someone who should not be."

"Apart from the research team, the only people out there are those four Starfleet tourists, and they will arrive on horseback," the scientist said irritably, still refusing to lift her eyes from her work.

"Fine!" Kahlestra snarled. "Stay here with your research. I'm going to investigate."

"Go, then, but make sure you don't pester the Federation archaeologists with your squalling," Kurak warned, tapping at the keypad. "I gave my word you would be on your best behavior. You will not make me a liar."

"Don't worry, Mother," Kahlestra sneered. "Unlike you and my teachers, Drs. Baker, Anders, Tu'Pari, and Kapoor have told me they welcome my thoughts and opinions!"

"It is not their duty to teach you Klingon discipline, but mine," Kurak retorted. "You will mind our values, daughter, and learn to keep your silence and your place."

Kahlestra growled in frustration, her ridged nostrils flaring.

"Like you, you mean?" she spat, knowing it was a cheap shot but firing it anyway.

Kurak's shoulders tensed sharply, but she didn't respond.

Kahlestra's dark eyes narrowed.

"You speak of values, always values," she muttered angrily, "but unless she's a member of a very prominent House, Klingon culture does not value a female's thoughts, her feelings, or her work. You've said this yourself, Mother…every time you tried for advancement and lost the post to a male competitor! Why should I value a culture that does not value me?"

"Kahlestra!" Kurak snapped, raising her eyes from her console at last.

But the fuming girl had turned her back and was already marching through the lab's sliding door into the windy desert heat.

The archaeologists' compound was nestled in the protected lee of a curving, stony ridge and divided into three sections: research facilities, eating and exercise huts, and basic housing. The structures were standard Federation flatpack domes, easy to assemble and disassemble while leaving only minimal physical impact on the native environment.

Kahlestra strode to the sandy center of the compound, her long, braided hair tossed by the wind as she sniffed, and tasted, the air.

"Kahlestra!"

Dr. Melinda Baker waved cheerily and jogged through the wind to join her.

"I've just come from that new passage we found under the Stairway," the human said excitedly. "You and your mother really should see what…"

Baker trailed off, her freckled, sun-tanned brow furrowing as she ran a hand through her short, messy curls.

"Did you hear that?"

The young Klingon nodded.

"And I smell the ionized exhaust," she said. "I think it's speeder engines, but Mother refuses to listen to me. As usual."

"Well, your mother is under a lot of pressure, Kay," Baker said gently. "When it comes to pursuing research for research's sake, I don't think the Klingon Empire is exactly—"

"I don't care about the stupid Empire!" Kahlestra snarled. "Mother's always under pressure, and she always refuses to hear me! She may not think it is a child's place to speak out, but I'm eleven years old, I have my own mind! And I know a ground transport when I hear one!"

Dr. Baker frowned and tilted her head slightly in the direction of the faint, rumbling sound.

"There's more than one, if that's not an echo…" she said warily, and took Kahlestra's hand.

"Come on, Kay," she said, heading for the main building with its compact, but powerful, communications array. "It's probably just some off world punks, but I think we should report this...especially with those Starfleet tourists due to arrive this afternoon. Communications with the capital settlement have been sporadic because of the sandstorms, but we might be able to get a message through to the Federation Starbase on—"

A flash of green light seared Kahlestra's eyes, and the warm pressure of Dr. Baker's hand in hers vanished in a burning, stinging heat. She blinked the spots from her vision and looked down at her hand. It was scorched and raw and streaked with a peculiar black soot. Streaks the length and shape of human fingers…

"By Kahless…" the girl gasped, and glared, a deep, terrible rage roiling within her.

Whoever had fired was clearly a coward, choosing to remain concealed behind sand and rocks rather than step out in the open and claim the kill. With nothing to fight, Kahlestra clenched her blistered hand into a fist and raced for the main building. She moved, not in a straight line, but in an evasive zig-zag, as she'd been taught—until something small slammed painfully into her shoulder. The impact made her stagger slightly, but she kept running, reaching back to brush it away…

But, to the girl's horror, the world around her was already fading…dematerializing…and taking her consciousness with it…

Data could not recall a time he had felt so…liberated. It was as if the worries and inhibitions he had carried for so long had dropped away, somewhere along the trail, leaving the android free to act and speak and even sing as he pleased, without the awful, nagging fear that his colleagues would shrink away, chastise, or think any less of him for indulging his playful whims.

While Picard, Troi, and Riker kept to the path, Data and Sagebrush romped and cavorted in the sand. When Sagebrush indicated he wanted to rejoin the group, Data ran off on his own, testing his body's remarkable speed, agility, and reflexes just for the sheer joy of moving through the sunlight, dancing with the wind. Having spent the vast majority of his life within the close, controlled, orderly confines of Federation starships and Starfleet discipline, he found the planet's wild, empty spaces exhilarating, intoxicating, and he was still laughing when he rejoined the others at the sheltered rest area for their midday meal.

"Feeling better, Mr. Data?" Picard said.

"Yes, sir," Data assured him, breathing heavily as he flopped to the sandy ground, practically glowing with spent energy. Without his skin, his respiratory system had to take up the slack of regulating his body temperature, but that wasn't an easy task in the desert sun. Data felt drained and breathless and hot, but happy. "It was a…marvelous experience."

"It's easy to forget you never had a childhood…a chance to play," Deanna said softly, and smiled. "I enjoyed watching you today, Data. It was…joyful."

Data grinned.

"Yes, joyful, that's the word! Joyful…" The android closed his eyes and took in a deep breath through his nose, as if the sound were a flavor that could be savored. Then, slowly, he shook his head with a wry little smile.

"Since installing my emotion chip…losing the D…my life has seemed so…so grim, so dark…" he confessed. "I have been consumed by guilt and fear…so much so that even my dreams afforded little escape. Today, for the first time, I feel a change, a real change. Perhaps…" He shrugged a little sheepishly and risked a glance at Deanna. "Perhaps, I am not such a terrible person after all…?"

"Data…"

Riker and Deanna both gave him a playful shove, leaving the android chuckling through a slight, self-depreciating smile.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but all that riding has left me ravenous, and very thirsty," Picard said. "How about some lunch?"

The captain's suggestion was met with cheers, and within minutes the group was talking and laughing over their shiny ration packets. With the first site so near, the topic stuck close to the archaeology and history of the planet, with Data happily sharing the information in his vast databanks with the curious group. Picard knew most of the facts, but it was all new to Troi and Riker, which made relating the material all the more fun.

"So this stairway we're about to see was never meant to go anywhere?" Riker asked. "Then, what's the point of building it?

"As far as anyone has so far been able to tell, it is a purely ceremonial structure," Data said. "Its purpose and symbolism are steeped in mystery. I'm hoping the archaeologists we're about to meet will be able to fill in some of the blanks, as it were."

"As am I, Mr. Data," Picard said eagerly, and drained his cup. "If we're all finished here, I'd say it's time to continue on. We should be getting our first glimpse of the structure in another hour and a half or so."

"Indeed, Captain," Data said, and reached for the saddlebag containing his bioplast sheeting and the medikit. "If you'll excuse me, I only need a few minutes to-"

A deep, rumbling tremor knocked the expedition to the ground. The horses whinnied and shied in alarm, straining hard against the restraints that kept them from running off. With the saddlebag slung over his shoulder, Data jumped to his feet and raced over, trying to calm them, but the tremors only got worse. The rockface that had provided shelter from the wind began to crack, sending sharp shards and chips skittering to the ground. Larger stones began to follow. Picard, Riker, and Troi only just managed to grab their packs and scramble out of the way before the space where they'd shared their lunch was filled with rough, red, sandy gravel.

It took nearly three minutes of frightened, breathless waiting, but the ground finally stopped its terrible shaking. Data hummed to the horses and stroked their manes and, slowly, they stopped their panicked screaming, calming enough to allow the android to look to his human companions. To his alarm, he found them half-buried in the hot sand.

"Is everyone all right?" Picard asked, coughing roughly as Data helped him climb to his feet, then rushed to help Riker and Troi.

"Yes, we're fine," Troi said, batting the burning, clinging sand from her hair and clothes with palpable distaste. "Thank you, Data."

"I suppose we're lucky," Riker said grimly. "All our supplies seem to be intact."

"Yes, but I believe we should head for the archaeological site at once," Data said, putting all thoughts of his appearance aside and already re-saddling the horses. "The tremors emanated from that direction and the effects there may have been worse. Communications on this planet are spotty at best, and if any of the scientists should be injured..."

"Quite right, Mr. Data," Picard said. "We'll have to lend whatever help we can."

The Stairway of Sawrina the Great was much more than a straightforward flight of stairs. Though it led nowhere, it was a vast, elaborate structure, branching and interweaving with all the eye-twisting complexity of an Escher print brought to towering life. The four Starfleet officers couldn't help but marvel as it came into view, but their primary concern was to reach the archaeologists' compound as quickly as possible.

"Hello!" Picard called as they approached the prefabricated domes. "Is anyone there?"

His calls were met by an eerie, wind-whistling silence.

Data frowned, got down from his horse, and removed his protective, goggle-like sun shades, his golden eyes darting over the sand in front of the main building.

"This isn't right..." he said.

"What is it, Data?" Riker asked.

"I detect signs of a struggle," the android said. "But, despite the tremors, the erosion of the imprints I see here indicates they were made several hours ago. Two people were moving quickly, I would suspect a woman of medium build and a child. The woman's prints end in this patch of discolored sand, while the child's continue in an evasive pattern, only to stop abruptly..."

He crouched down near the blackened sand and rubbed a small sample between his fingers. Alarmed, he stood and faced the group.

"Captain, the woman was vaporized," he reported. "By a high energy weapon."

"And the child?" Deanna asked, dreading the answer.

"I have no way of knowing," Data said. "But as there are no other prints and no sign that the child fell, I would assume a transporter."

"You mean, someone came here, killed a woman, and abducted a child?" Riker repeated. "Why? What would be the purpose?"

"Let's spread out," Picard ordered. "There were five researchers working here. Perhaps one of them can shed light on this mystery."

The officers nodded and branched out, Data heading for the primary research laboratory while Picard took the main building and Troi and Riker moved toward the eating and residential huts.

The android walked through the sliding door into a scene of smouldering destruction. It seemed a hail of energy bolts had discolored walls, shorted out consoles, moving across the room as if tracking someone's movements.

Data heard a rustle, and scanned the vicinity for something he could use as an impromptu weapon. Grabbing a heavy piece of non-conductive rebar, he moved cautiously forward.

The rustle came again, then the lumbering tread of very heavy footfalls. Data raised his eyes-

And found himself staring into the wild haired, heavily ridged, bone-white features of a Nausicaan raider.

"Identify yourself," Data ordered, keeping the rebar low until it became necessary to use it.

"You first," the Nausicaan spat in a rough, fang-slurred voice, taking advantage of his heavily armored, muscular bulk to loom threateningly over the much smaller android. "You do not look like a hew-man."

"You are very observant," Data said dryly. "May I ask your purpose here?"

The Nausicaan snorted, then broke out laughing.

"A robot!" he exclaimed, as if listening to someone else. "Of course, a robot!"

Data frowned.

"Pardon me, but I am not a robot. And, as you are trespassing on Federation property, it is my duty to take you in to custody."

"Robot." The Nausicaan snuffled with laughter. "You may try, robot!"

The Nausicaan lunged at him, and Data dodged swiftly, a tap to the much larger being's back sending him sprawling against a ruined console. Data moved to grab him, aiming for a vulnerable nerve cluster just under the Nausicaan's ear, but the Nausicaan shot something just as Data raised his arm: a gray dart gun small enough to conceal in one hand. Data felt a projectile impact hard against his side and reached for the communicator he'd tucked his pocket-

But the charred, smoky room was already dematerializing around him, and Data could feel his conscious awareness fading...

To Be Continued...

References include Suspicions; Tapestry; Birthright I; Peak Performance; Elementary, Dear Data; and the movie Insurrection.

Still interested? Let me know! Please review! :)