"Kort!"
The Klingon lay in a heap ahead of them. As they drew near they could see blood oozing from a cut on the side of his head. Hunter had spotted him first, was by his side in moments.
"You're injured! Where's T'Sorf?" Kort looked confused. He spoke slowly, as if struggling to remember.
"We made it ashore. T'Sorf was exhausted, nothing more… H'Narth was waiting for us… We fought… He struck me on the head with a rock."
"He took T'Sorf with him?" Hunter asked, sparing his friend the agony of saying the words. Kort nodded. "And my weapons."
"They can't be far ahead. We'll get him back Kort, I promise you." Kort's head was in his hands. "He dragged T'Sorf back into the river with him. The current could have carried them for miles by now."
For two hours, they followed the line of the river, beating a path through the dense undergrowth that extended right down to the water's edge, until the forest thinned and they could see the way ahead for some distance. But it was no use. There was no trace of H'Narth and T'Sorf. As Kort said, they could have come ashore miles downriver, headed off in any direction. H'Narth had come to Skara with a purpose. It was likely that he knew the planet's geography better than any of them.
Almost as soon as they started moving again, it began to rain, an icy, sheeting rain that drove them back into the forest for shelter. With the rain came a fall in temperature and a skulking, muddy sky that seemed to press in on their very thoughts, turning them as gloomy as the weather.
Still soaked through from his dip in the river, Spock began to feel a tightening in his chest. If Vulcans could be said to have a weakness, it was their susceptibility to chest complaints – hardly a problem in the hot, dry climate of Vulcan, but a constant threat in Spock's weakened state and with the saturating dampness of the Skarran climate. Spock did not underestimate the danger he was in.
"We must build a fire, dry out before we die of exposure." Hunter remarked, observing Spock's condition." He did not say it, but all understood that, for the time being they would have to abandon the search.
After two days, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The river had doubled in size and was the colour of dried blood from churned up silt and sediment. Kravok approached and stood beside Hunter as he contemplated the fast-flowing current. "You fear that H'Narth may harm your friend's son." He said.
"Yes. If they did not drown." Hunter replied, flatly.
Kravok looked away. What could he say? H'Narth would do whatever was necessary. He hovered by Hunter's side. Kravok had observed how easily this man and the Klingon, Kort communicated, as though there was no history of conflict or enmity between their races. Kravok's curiosity about other races and humans in particular overrode his Klingon upbringing; he heard himself ask, "You and Kort are friends. How did this come about?"
"You mean, how is it possible for a human and a Klingon to be friends? Let me tell you something, Kravok – we're not so different. Oh, sure, you Klingons have your annoying habits such as your belligerence, your arrogance, your stubbornness – but, know what, so do we. And so do the Vulcans, though don't tell Mr Spock I said so." Kravok was not sure if the older man were mocking him – Hunter's tone was not hostile and yet his words were provocative. Hunter smiled at him again and this time Kravok acknowledged him with a slight nod.
"It is depressing that for all that we have learned to master the art of travelling across vast distances all that we have really learned is that we can't wait to get out there and see what there is, see who there is – to conquer and subjugate and exploit." Hunter sounded infinitely weary. Kravok was puzzled.
"Those things you speak of – exploiting and subjugating – these are part of the Klingon code – but I thought you humans and other members of the Federation were different."
"Are we though, Kravok? The Enterprise destroyed your warbird. We have not yet found an alternative to killing and violence."
"My commander gave them no choice. He was the first to strike and with no warning." Hunter nodded.
"Yet I cannot help feeling that we are destined to be friends, your people and mine."
"Because you and Kort are friends? Kort is not a typical Klingon."
"And you, Kravok? Are you typical?" Hunter asked, his eyes on the red, angry river. Kravok did not reply. How could he admit to this man what he had feared to admit even to himself not such a long time ago?
"Now, what do you suppose brought these Klingons to Skara?" Hunter asked, out of earshot of Kravok and T'Hana and dropping back to where Spock was negotiating a steep incline with obvious difficulty. Spock did not answer immediately. They had kept up a demanding pace for several hours, since morning. Hunter was perspiring, but had matched the Klingons with their strong physiques step for step. Spock had been lagging behind again, blocking his pain as best he could and struggling to suppress the irrational thoughts that kept threatening to distort his thinking. At that moment, although he recognised that it was illogical to be irritated by Hunter's words, he was intensely irritated, and his impatience was conveyed in his tone, which in its turn, irritated him more.
"I fail to see why you ask me that when you already know the answer. It is the same reason that you and Kort are here, is it not? You began telling me about Ravik, but you were careful not to reveal too much. I find your endless prevarications and omissions wearying."
"You think we're concealing things from you, Spock. Maybe you're right. Truth is, Kort and I don't know whom we can trust in Starfleet, but as you've already said as much, I'll admit, our landing on Skara was no accident. As to why the Klingon ship arrived, that's anyone's guess. Maybe I should be asking you what the Enterprise was doing so close to an off limits planet? Ah yes, you answered a mysterious distress call that could not in the end, even by traced to Skara. Now who do you suppose sent that? Not those hairy Neanderthals, I'll wager." Hunter's tone was more taunting than hostile. Ahead of them on the path, the Klingon woman looked over her shoulder, but it was unlikely she had heard.
Blood was pounding in Spock's ears. He concentrated on avoiding the many gnarled tree roots protruding above ground, concealed in the long grass. He squinted at the path ahead, rising ever more steeply among the trees – not really a path at all, just a way through the forest that was negotiable on foot, flattened out by passing animals, perhaps or troupes of Skarrans on hunting trips. He stumbled, despite his best efforts and would have gone down had Hunter not grabbed his arm to steady him. Spock flinched at the unwelcome contact, and was about to shake Hunter off when he was overcome with a sudden impression of the human's concern and something more, his goodness. For a moment, Spock stood still, then, surprising himself with the spontaneous gesture, he reached out to Hunter with his mind, communicating an image, trust me, not knowing if it would be received without a full meld using his fingers on the man's meld points, but Hunter nodded, releasing Spock's arm.
"I do, Spock. Kort does too – and T'Sorf has never doubted you. But we have to be careful." Spock nodded. Both men resumed their climb up the arduous path, Spock putting one foot in front of the other in a mechanical way until Kort signalled that it was safe to stop.
"Rest awhile, friend." Hunter said. Spock had little choice but to comply. Kravok, the injured Klingon, he noted sank down as soon as the group halted. Spock leaned back against a tree, resting his eyes for a moment. It was late afternoon and the light was already fading. Now that he was not expending energy walking, Spock was shivering again, but at least the forest provided shelter from the ever-present chill wind.
The Klingon, Kravok moaned. T'Hana knelt near him and felt his tunic at the shoulder; her fingers were sleek with blood when she took them away.
"I have some training in field medicine. May I assist?" Spock offered, addressing the Klingon woman. He examined Kravok's wound, which was ugly and inflamed, much like the one on his own foot, from the animal snare.
Without medication, there was little that could be done; in time it would fester and grow worse, except, Spock noticed that in Kravok's case, it was possible that a foreign agent was causing the inflammation. He probed the wound as gently as he could. Despite his attempts at fortitude, the Klingon tensed against the pain. Using a sterile instrument from Hunter's medikit, Spock probed the wound again and felt metal.
The Klingon woman seemed to sense what he was about to do and gripped Kravok's other shoulder, stabilising him. Spock tugged and felt the metal dislodge. With one more deft pull it came away in his fingers followed by a cleansing flow of blood. As T'Hana covered the wound with a bandage from her pack, Spock laid the shard of metal aside and looked at Kravok, "The wound will stand a better chance of healing now." He said.
"Thank you." Kravok said, exhausted by his ordeal. Spock nodded though his face remained inscrutable. By now they had almost lost the light. Hunter had gathered some branches and Spock used his phaser to start a fire and warm some rocks. They would have to spend the night in the open and he had no wish to freeze.
Kort disappeard for an hour and returned with two furry creatures which he and the other Klingons skinned and roasted over the fire. Klingons were expert hunters. The smell of animal flesh was repugnant to Spock who made do with a handful of leaves and berries. Hunger was easy to suppress compared to his other troubles. The rocks would provide warmth for many hours. Spock did not volunteer to take the first watch, knowing that his face must betray his exhaustion, and he lay down, glad of the heat radiating from the large boulders.
He woke hours later, still the dead of night, and saw Hunter's watchful eyes guarding the group. Insisting that he felt refreshed, Spock took over the watch and for a time, all was quiet, the Skarran moonlight bathing the sleepers in a hushed, silver luminescence. Gradually, Spock felt the familiar sensation of a presence close by. Unalarmed, he formed a question and projected it in his thoughts, "Who are you?" The answer came back, swift, curious, in the Vulcan tongue.
"Who asks?" Was it a question from some tangible source, or a figment of his own imagination? Spock could not be sure.
"I am Spock of Vulcan." Spock waited, expecting his mind to be invaded by an alien presence, but he felt no tendrils of another's thoughts reaching into his consciousness, no invasive probing.
For several moments all was quiet and Spock wondered if he were experiencing some kind of hallucination, the stirrings of a psychosis. Then it came again, a thought, not his own, a warning, like before, "Take care, Spock of Vulcan. They come."
Unnerved now, Spock looked around him, listening keenly. And then he heard. A rustling of leaves that was not the wind, a twig snapping underfoot, the faint sound of breathing. "Kort! Hunter!" Spock's warning call roused all the sleepers and all were on their feet instantly.
Too late! Into the moonlight, from the dark undergrowth all around their camp stepped a number of humanoids, not Spock noticed at once, the native Skarans that they had encountered already, but a different species entirely. They were surrounded. The visitors were tall, silver-skinned, all with the same sleek, waist-length hair of an iridescent green and purple, like a starling's feathers, with the same glossy sheen. They carried no discernible weapons, but their stance and appearance communicated a sense of threat.
"Who is your leader?" Spock stepped forward, identifying himself to the questioner, who asked immediately, pointing to the Klingons who had been bound for the night. "Why are they bound?"
"We do not know if we can trust them." Spock answered. The Starling leader looked at Kort and Kravoc, then at Hunter, registering the variations in their appearance, perhaps.
Then, he signalled with his hand and five of his companions stepped forward and stood next to Spock and his group, marking them. Immediately, Kravok lashed out at his captor. The guard looked to his leader and received a nod. From the folds of his loose-fitting tunic, Kravok's guard produced a pen-shaped instrument, which he pointed directly at his captive. The Klingon sank to his knees, his face contorting in agony.
Spock intervened. "You're killing him." He said, calmly. "I entreat you to stop."
"It is for Nor to decide when to stop." The leader replied, unmoved either by Kravok's suffering, or Spock's plea. Kort, acting swiftly sprang on Kravok's tormentor, seizing him from behind. Immediately, two guards hauled him off,
throwing him to the ground, one of them taking from his belt a device identical to the one being used on Kravok. The others watched as Kort too, writhed in pain.
"This is inhuman." Hunter said, his voice strained, watching Kort's agony.
The leader of the Starlings, as Spock thought of them, issued a command and at once, the torture ceased. Hunter was at Kort's side instantly, helping him to his feet. Kravok struggled to stand.
Spock fingered his phaser. He had observed the Starlings adjust the settings on their weapons before turning them on their victims – it was likely that the instruments were capable of more than inflicting pain. So far, the Starlings had not searched them for weapons but that would surely be their next move. Spock had been careful to conceal his intention as best he could but when he looked up, he saw the Starling's leader watching him.
Spock reacted with lightening speed, pulling his phaser from his pocket and aiming it directly at the Starling leader. Before he could fire, another Starling moving impossibly fast kicked the weapon from his hand, and he felt himself pushed forcefully to the ground.
Kort and Hunter, seeing Spock's movement had reached for their weapons and been similarly dissuaded. All three lay on the ground, unable to move. They were summarily disarmed.
"Tie them up," the leader ordered coldly. "Kill the one named Spock."
Author's note: Well, what do you think? Is this the end for Spock? Let me know if you're enjoying the story so far – sooner you review, sooner you'll find out if our favourite Vulcan survives!