AN: Thank you so much for all the reviews on the last chapter!

Chekov watched wearily as Kati paced from one end of the small, barren plaza to the other. Claiming she was tired of the Ocampa staring at them, Kati had insisted they leave the open courtyard where the Ocampa received food and messages from their Caretaker. Chekov would have preferred to stay and watch the images, which were soothing, or talk to the Ocampa, which might distract him from their situation. Instead, Kati had led him through the broad streets until they found this deserted corner of the city. Watching her walk back and forth, he was forced to admit he probably didn't have the energy to talk with curious aliens; just looking at Kati made him feel exhausted.

"We have to get out of here," she muttered. "We have to get up to the surface."

"There's no way out," Chekov said, not for the first time. "Ren told us there was no way to get to the surface."

"He told us that," Kati countered, "But how do we know he's telling us the truth?"

Chekov didn't bother to answer. They'd had this conversation before, and he didn't think it was going to be any more productive this time than the last time. Ren might be lying to them, or might simply be mistaken. The idea of exploring a new, alien city, trying to find something people said couldn't be found, should have been exciting, if a little harrowing. Chekov only felt tired, and a little nauseous. He regretted accepting the gruel Ren had insisted he eat.

"I'm sure Captain Kirk is doing everything he can to find us," he offered.

Kati made a noise that was equal parts impatient and desperate. "What makes you think any of them are still alive?" she demanded.

Chekov didn't answer that, either. He thought they were alive because even considering any of the alternatives threatened to drown him in despair. He hadn't become the youngest officer in Starfleet by giving in to despair, and he wasn't going to start now. Even if it was very, very hard. Even if he could feel the fear pressing against him on all sides. Even if—

He just couldn't think about it.

"And if they are alive," Kati continued, "it will be Khan leading the rescue…"

She swayed unsteadily and Chekov lunged toward her. He caught her elbow just as his stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, and he barely managed to keep them both from falling down. They clung to one another for support.

"Should I call for help?" Chekov asked, hoping she would say yes.

"No!" she snapped.

"Are you in pain?" someone asked gently.

Kati whirled. Chekov, his reactions dulled by exhaustion, barely managed to stay upright as she inadvertently dragged him around to face the speaker. An Ocampa woman stood a short distance away, watching them with a slightly apologetic air. It was the same woman, Chekov realized, he had seen when he first woke in the Ocampa hospital.

"Have you been following us?" Kati demanded. "I thought we weren't your prisoners."

The woman seemed wary of Kati's temper. Since she had watched Kati violently attack another Ocampa only a few hours ago, Chekov thought that was understandable. But she didn't leave, despite Kati's hostility.

"I wasn't watching you," she said. "I was looking for you." She approached cautiously, glancing around the plaza as though afraid someone might be following her. Maybe, Chekov thought, Kati's temper wasn't the only thing she was wary of. "I wanted to give you this."

She took Chekov's hand and pressed something into his palm. He glanced down and saw it was a small vial filled with a viscous green fluid.

"I don't know if it will help," the woman admitted, as Kati peered over Chekov's shoulder to see the vial. "It's a medicine." She looked nervously around again, and Chekov did the same: her paranoia was contagious. "There are people who have broken from tradition and left the city. Their colony grows fruit and vegetables. They discovered quite by accident that the moss that grows on certain fruit trees has healing properties." She reached out and touched his hand again, her fingers lingering. "I… I'm sorry for what's happened to you."

Chekov closed his fingers around the vial. It felt cool against his skin. This was the first time anyone had given any indication their illness was something that had been done to them, rather than a tragic act of nature. Somehow, it gave Chekov hope. Whatever was happening, it wasn't just chance, and if there was an explanation, there might be a way to fix it.

"I appreciate this," he said sincerely, "But the only way we're going to survive is if we can get to the surface and find our own people."

The woman pulled away from him, unsure. "The elders would say that's against the Caretaker's wishes," she said slowly.

Kati caught her hesitation. "What do you say?" she pressed.

The woman wavered a moment longer, then said, reluctantly, "The Caretaker's been behaving… strangely for the past several months. Abducting people, increasing the power supply."

"Power supply?" Chekov repeated, wondering how this could possibly connect their abduction and strange illness.

"He's tripled the energy he sends us," the Ocampa explained. "They say we have enough stored now to last five years."

"And no one knows why?"

"When we ask, we're told to trust the Caretaker's decisions." She sounded torn, and Chekov thought he could understand why. To depend utterly on another being for everything you needed to survive had to create both great faith and great resentment. "One person I knew did get to the surface," she admitted. "But we never saw her again."

"How?" Kati demanded. "How did she get to the surface?"

"The ancient tunnels that brought us here still exist," she said. "Over the years, small breaches in the security barrier have appeared that are just large enough for someone to fit through. But it still requires digging through hitras of rock to get out."

The Universal Translator offered no translation for the measure of distance the woman used, but Kati seemed undaunted by the thought of tunneling through an unknown thickness of stone.

"Can you get us tools to dig with?" she asked.

The Ocampa woman seemed alarmed by her determination. "It could take days, even weeks to break through," she said. "You need to rest, conserve your strength."

Why? Chekov wondered. So they could die more slowly? He didn't feel like he could walk across the plaza, let alone lift a shovel, but he refused to give into despair. "Please," he said, trying to make her understand. "It's our only chance."

The woman met his eyes, and something must have got through to her because her face softened. "Yes," she said. "I'll do what I can to help."