"Uhura, you must wake up. You must have your nourishment." Uhura opened her eyes at the sound of the voice and found herself looking into the pink eyes of slim Andorian woman. Her pale blue skin glowed with a reddish tinge from the dying embers of the fire from the night before. Uhura smiled and sat up stiffly on her small straw bed. She pulled the rough woollen blanket she had been given over her at the chill of the draught. She took the bowl and nodded her thanks. The Andorian's antennae dipped in response. It had felt like a short night. The group had brought them several kilometres from the arena to a group of caves set in what looked like a chain of old volcanoes. Other fighters had joined them in a steady stream, gathering round the smoky fires to eat, talk and have their wounds tended to. Uhura examined the contents of her bowl. It was a thick bready substance studded with what looked like vegetables and scraps of meat. She picked up a little in fingers and tasted it. It was bland but edible. She chewed over her mouthful, watching the camp awakening from its slumber. There were several fires in the cave and the cavern was thick with smoke but no one seemed to mind. It was obviously a place of safety.

The Andorian moved on, pleased that Uhura was eating. She walked over to where Kirk was sleeping and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She shook him slightly. He opened his eyes blearily, pushing himself up the bed, accepting her bowl of food as he did so. He looked round for Uhura and saw her, sitting on her bed on the other side of one of the fires. Her thick black hair was tousled and had pieces of straw sticking out of it. He smiled and got up, walking over to her, clutching his bowl.

"Good morning, lieutenant," he smiled. "Did you get a good night's sleep?" He put down his bowl on the ground and plucked the offending straw from her hair. "That's better".

"Oh". She put up her hand to smooth down her hair. "I think I slept well. Under the circumstances". She took another mouthful of food. It was starting to become almost tasty.

Kirk looked around at the assembled mass of people and nodded. They milled about, quietly going about their morning chores. "The thralls always were a hardy lot." He looked down at his crumpled uniform. The gold had turned almost brown. "What I wouldn't do for a change of clothes and a sonic shower just now".

Uhura laughed, leaning down to retrieve his bowl. She thrust it up into his hands. "Priorities, Captain."

"You're quite right, Lieutenant." He shovelled some of the pottage into his mouth. It felt good to get some food into his empty stomach. "I checked in with Spock last night. The Enterprise is fine. At least that's one less thing to worry about. As soon as we find Chekov we'll beam up. We can think about brokering a peace after that."

"Captain!" Tabana's voice echoed across the cavern. "Captain Kirk!" The young doctor hurried over, carrying a large wooden bowl. Water splashed over the edge as he walked. He put it down on a crude table next to the fire. "I've brought some water for you and a cloth – well, it's a rag really, but it's the best I can do. Keeping clean is so important. I try to tell them, but some of them never listen."

"Thank you," said Kirk. "I'll let you go first, Uhura."

"The women will be washing in the river later," said Tabana helpfully, handing Uhura the cloth out of the bowl. "I'm sure they'll be pleased to have you join them." He turned back to Kirk. "I've tried to get a regime going for them. It's surely better to die in battle than of poor hygiene."

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "That could almost make a Klingon proverb, Dr Tabana."

Tabana shrugged. "Well, actually, a Klingon friend of mine here does seem to say something similar". He gave a sigh. "But it would be better not to have to die in these circumstances at all."

Kirk nodded in silent agreement, chewing over his food. Several of the aliens were sharpening knives. Some were fashioning shafts for spears and lances. The women worked alongside the men, dividing the labour. None looked over the age of forty. A testament to the Providers' games, Kirk thought grimly. Thinking about the Providers reminded him that Chekov was still missing.

"Tabana, back at the arena, when I mentioned I was looking for my navigator… the thralls seemed to know about him. They called him 'the betrayer'. Why?"

Tabana laughed nervously. "It's just a story, Captain. The thralls are very superstitious. Stories start and get out of control like Chinese whispers. I guess it's just another urban myth. The effect of the three of you on this planet was significant. It's no wonder stories were told and elaborated. Rumours, I suppose."

"But why?" Kirk insisted. "Chekov didn't do anything as such when he was here. I was the one that set the challenge to the Providers. It was my responsibility. Tell me what the story says."

Tabana shrugged and moved over to the fire. He retrieved a stick from next to it and began to poke it, sending sparks flying up into the darkness of the cave's roof. "The story goes that your navigator was taken by a Provider to reveal the location of Cyliss."

"Cyliss?" asked Uhura with a frown, wringing out her piece of cloth. She put it down on the table and moved over to stand next to Kirk. "That was one of the words mentioned on the walls of the arena. My tricorder picked it up during the translation."

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "What is it? I've never heard of it."

Tabana shook his head. "Neither had I till I came here. It's the Providers' home world. The place they came from. Exiled apparently."

"But even if Chekov did do that," said Uhura, "why would that be bad? All that's left of the Providers is their brains. Someone would have to load them up and take them away."

Kirk nodded in agreement. "And there's nothing wrong with wanting to go home."

Tabana threw the stick into the fire. "I don't know. They just say that he did it willingly and that the decision to do so was his own choice. I don't know why some of the Providers want to go home now. Maybe the civil war has made them homesick. The Providers on our side are winning. Perhaps the others think they have nowhere else to go."

"So why did they call Chekov the 'betrayer'? Who could he be betraying?" asked Kirk. "Not us, surely."

"Chekov would never do that," said Uhura firmly. "He's one of crew. We trust him with our lives. He has no allegiance to the Providers. He didn't even want to come back here."

"I really don't know," said Tabana apologetically. "That's all I know of the story. By revealing Cyliss he betrays us all. Torrit might be able to tell you more. He's the leader of this group. He's the only one who has any dealings with the Providers who freed the thralls. They prefer not to interfere with us now, but they're on our side."

A sudden cry went up from outside the cave. The thralls looked up from their chores in trepidation, reaching for their weapons and rising to their feet. Kirk and Uhura moved forward to the entrance with them, straining to see what the commotion was all about. More shouts followed.

Kirk pulled one of the thralls by the arm. "What is it? What have they seen?"

The grey skinned woman looked back at him with round black eyes. "Strangers are coming," she said tensely. "They might be spies from the enemy. A scouting party found them." She moved off into the crowd to get a better look. Kirk followed her. Out of the mist a group began to form, walking quickly towards the caves. In the midst of a circle of aliens he caught a glimpse of a gold and black shirt. The crowd in the cave began to part deferentially. From the back of the cave, a tall alien walked forward through the path that they made. He was thickset with blueish black hair like a raven and a wide forehead. His clothes were made of fleeces and furs crudely stitched together. Kirk didn't recognise his species. Kirk tried to move forward but found his way blocked by the spears of what had suddenly become an armed guard. He turned to find Tabana at his shoulder.

"That's Chekov," he said. "I need to talk to him."

Tabana shook his head quickly. "No, Captain. Torrit must speak to him first. No strangers ever get in here without going through him first."

"Then I need to speak to Torrit," he insisted, stepping forward. He stopped as Tabana gripped his arm insistently.

"No. Don't interfere. They'll kill you without question."

Kirk was surprised at the sincerity of his tone and stopped. He decided to hold his ground and stay where he was. He sensed Uhura moving to stand next to him. He turned to see the worry on her face.

Torrit stood at the entrance to the cave on the edge of the plain, an escort of armed thralls flanking him on either side. The mists rolled dismally in the background through the stubby tufts of grass and meagre bushes. The scout party brought forward their prisoners and thrust them forward. At the nod of Torrit's head they pulled Chekov to his knees in front of him. The Russian winced as he hit the ground. Behind him, Uhura could make out another familiar figure – the stout, muscular form of Tamoon, Chekov's former drill thrall. Uhura gave a quiet gasp as she recognised her. She didn't look well. She hung limply in the arms of two of the scouts. Uhura couldn't tell if she was alive or dead. Chekov looked exhausted and dirty. He knelt, swaying slightly on the damp ground. His uniform was ripped at the arms. Uhura could see that his wrists and lips were cut and bruised and there was a large gash across his cheekbone.

"Who are you?" asked Torrit in his deep booming voice. The crowd at the cave fell silent and listened, hardly daring to breathe.

Chekov hung his head, his eyes shut. He murmured something. Uhura could see his lips moving.

"Speak louder!" commanded Torrit, his eyes flashing.

"Chekov," he said hoarsely. "Chekov…" He repeated the name distractedly, frowning with the effort.

"And where have you come from? Have you come from the enemy?"

Chekov shook his head, still not looking up. It seemed like every movement cost him his draining energy. "I was captured. Tamoon…" he raised his arm weakly to gesture to her. "She helped me to escape. We were ambushed. She's been hurt."

Torrit turned to the crowd. "Tabana!" he called. "The female is wounded. See to her. We'll deal with her later."

The doctor pushed past Kirk and through the wall of spears that were raised at Torrit's command. He went over to the scouts who were holding Tamoon. He spoke to them quietly, instructing them to lay her on the ground. They obeyed roughly. He then went over to Torrit. Kirk strained to hear the conversation but a few seconds later, Torrit nodded and Tamoon was picked up and taken into the cave. Chekov raised his head momentarily as they went past.

Torrit turned back to Chekov. "Have you been sent as a spy? Have you come from Senrug? Tell us where she is. If you don't tell me I'll instruct my cohort here to force it from you. You'll find their methods are crude but effective.

"Nothing… I can't tell you anything…" He lifted his head, trying to focus his eyes. "I don't remember…"

Torrit drew himself up to his full height, displeased at the reply. "Ole," he growled to the guard on his left. The man was as the same species as Torrit, likewise dressed in furs and coarse cloth. He stepped forward eagerly at the command. "I think the boy needs some help in remembering."

Ole pulled Chekov up and thrust him backwards into the waiting arms of the scouts. With slow deliberation he pulled out a crude knife from a leather scabbard on his belt. The blade was of a dull metal but the edge was serrated with sharp teeth. Chekov watched him as if in a daze. He didn't seem to be completely aware of what was going on.

"What part does he want to lose first, Torrit?" he asked in a thin voice with a spiteful smile.

"Nothing too important, Ole," Torrit replied. "I might let you have him after you've finished," An unpleasant guffaw went up through the scouts and the guards. They moved in closer to watch like wolves waiting for the kill.

Anger welled up in Kirk as the scene played out in front of him. He knew what the conclusion would be. He had watched as the Klingons had tortured his navigator two years previously on a distant planet He remembered his screams as he lay on the dusty earth, the Klingons kneeling on his arms to hold him down as he writhed in in escapable pain. The actions had outraged Kirk to speechless ness. The same feelings of helplessness and loathing welled up in him now. He wasn't going to stand by and let that happen again here. Kirk could not contain himself any longer. He forced his way through the armed guard to stand in the path that they made. The spears immediately closed in around him. "Torrit!" he called out. "I can answer for him. This is Ensign Chekov. He's my navigator."

A ripple of alarm went through the group. Torrit glared back at him. "Navigator? If this is the navigator, then he deserves to die."

"Why?" retorted Kirk immediately. "He hasn't done anything wrong. But you… Tabana told me you were good people. You're behaving like animals"

"Bring him here," said Torrit lazily to one of his guards, ignoring Kirk.

They grabbed him by the arms and pulled him over. Kirk glanced over at Chekov. He was looking back at him with recognition and relief. Kirk sized up the leader of the thralls in silence. Something in his look changed Torrit's stance. Kirk saw the respect as he realised who he was.

"Are you Captain Kirk from the Enterprise?" he asked, trying not to let the sound of awe enter his tone. Kirk picked up on it immediately.

"Yes, that's right. And over there is Uhura, my communications officer." The crowd parted to let her through. "We freed you from the Providers. They promised to look after you and educate you after we left. We sent ships to help. Dr Tabana has told me about the civil war. I have to return to my ship with my people if I am going to be able to help you further."

Torrit's eyes narrowed. "Leaving us to our fate again, Captain?"

"No," said Kirk emphatically. "I will stay and broker a peace between your Providers and those that want the old ways."

Torrit remained silent as he digested the information. "If this had come from anyone else, Kirk, then I would not have believed them. But you have changed our planet beyond all recognition. I can't stop you. I know ship is more powerful than anything we can defend against. But your navigator… are you really going to take him with you? You know what our stories say. He will betray you and the damage will never be undone."

"Yes, I'm taking him. Stories are just that – stories, corruptions of the truth. Let us show you this time how we can help you. I'll stop this war and you can continue to prosper and flourish."

Torrit gestured to Ole and the scouts surrounding Chekov. They raised their weapons and backed away, moving off towards the cave. The crowd parted and swallowed them up. Chekov sank back down to his knees and onto his heels, scrubbing at his face with his forearm. Uhura saw the wounds on it and knelt down next to him. She hugged him round the shoulders. She could feel him shaking.

"Go then," said Torrit. "Defeat Senrug and the Providers us. Bring peace to Triskelion again." He turned and followed his guards back into the cave, dispersing the crowd as he did so.

"Ensign, are you alright?" Kirk stretched out his hand to Chekov. The Russian took it, grateful for the help in getting to his feet. "What happened to you?"

They began to walk back to the cave in Torrit's wake. "I was in the arena, talking to Elazari. I remember getting some strange readings on my tricorder… something like a transporter signal. Yes, that was it." Chekov rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. "Ugh, my head hurts."

"You can have some food in the cave," said Uhura, taking him by the elbow. "I didn't finish my breakfast."

Chekov smiled gratefully. "Thank you,"

"What happened next?" Kirk pressed him.

"We were attacked. I don't know what happened to Elazari. I tried to call out but they had you surrounded. They said if I made a noise they would kill you. I wanted to warn you…"

"It's ok, ensign," said Kirk soothingly, hearing the guilt in his voice. "They tried to attack us too, but these people here rescued us. Go on."

Chekov frowned. "I don't remember much else, sir. I must have come to in a holding cell. Tamoon rescued me. We managed to knock out our guards and escape. We've been running all night. We've not eaten or slept. Then we were ambushed by those thralls. We didn't know who they were. We tried to fight them off but they were too strong for us. Tamoon was wounded. We should go to her, captain."

As they entered the cave they saw Tabana tending to his patient next to a fire. He had dressed her wounds with bandages from his Starfleet medikit. Chekov knelt down next to the young woman, taking her hand in his. Uhura watched him with curiosity. She remembered how on their last visit he had detested her. She remembered his descriptions of her attempts to seduce him, which he recounted with horror. He had shown no regret in overpowering her to escape. What had happened, she wondered, to cause such a transformation? Maybe their escape had brought them together, like comrade in arms? But something like slavish devotion glowed in his deep brown eyes now. It was a look that worried her.

"Will she be alright?" Chekov asked Tabana in concern.

Tabana nodded, sealing off the end of the bandage across her midriff. "Yes, its just a flesh wound. She's dehydrated and there seem to be some kind of head injury – nothing serious that I can tell but I can't deal with it here with the equipment that I've got. It's just a standard medikit. She needs a biobed and you ship, Captain."

"Will you come with us?" asked Kirk.

Tabana gave a crooked smile. "Yesterday, I was so glad to see fellow humans I would have beamed up there and then. But now… no, not yet. My duty is to these people here and now. But send me down more supplies. I need to see this war through."

Kirk stretched out his hand in understanding. Tabana took it in his and clasped it firmly.

"Is she ready to be moved?" asked Kirk, looking down at Tamoon.

"Ready when you are," replied Tabana.

Kirk moved out of the cave and flipped open his communicator as Tabana rounded up a couple of people to lift Tamoon onto a makeshift stretcher to move her outside of the cave. "Kirk to Enterprise."

There was a brief pause. "Spock here, Captain. Is everything alright?" He voice was devoid of emotion, but Kirk was sure he could hear just the tiniest hint of relief.

"Yes, Spock, we're fine."

"Jim, is that you? Where the hell have you been?" Dr McCoy's voice became louder as he approached the communicator on the Bridge. As usual, the doctor was unable to hide his emotions.

Kirk smiled to himself. "Calm down, Bones. We've got wounded down here. Mr Spock, four to beam up in your own time."

Uhura and Chekov gathered together with Tamoon on the stretcher behind Kirk. The golden tingle of the transporter enveloped them