Ch.9
Kim had woken up to find Torres rattling the handle on their door with considerable violence. She swore at it when it didn't open, first in Federation Common, then presumably in Klingon.
"Damn this door! guy'chavam lojmIt!" she roared, wrenching it with all her might. Nothing happened and she let out a viscous snarl. Harry didn't say anything. He was frustrated too, for sure, but brute strength wasn't going to get them out of this. They needed a plan, a strategy. Trouble was, he couldn't think of one. He was just too exhausted. And now that exhaustion was now only matched by the incredible feeling of worry at his condition. He couldn't stop staring at his hands. They seemed to come in focus and fade with each heartbeat. He could almost see the outlines dissolving a little more each time. Torres, meanwhile, wouldn't stop stomping back and forth across the room. Well, stomping wasn't the right word, since now both of them were indistinct enough that just walking on the floor felt like slogging through loose sand. He wanted to say something, anything that might reassure her, but he couldn't find the words to reassure himself.
"This is insane!" she said, voice now echoing as if they were standing in a cathedral. She slapped at the door, but her hand merely disappeared partway into the wood instead of making any kind of impact.
"You should save your strength," said Kim, just to say something.
"Save it for what?" She made a good point and he fell silent.
"I can't believe this! I've been in worse scrapes than this and now I'm gonna die because I can't open a stupid locked door!"
They both looked at it, as if simple scrutiny would reveal all the secrets it held. It was made of wood, secured with iron bands and held in place with iron hinges. It swung out to open whenever the attendants came to check on them and squeaked when it was halfway shut. There was nothing spectacular about this door compared to any other he'd seen; yet it held them trapped.
Or was it so ordinary? He looked a little closer and realized they'd overlooked a glaring detail.
"Are we so sure it's locked?" he asked. She looked at him as if he'd just asked her to drink the ocean.
"What are you, stupid? We can't open it from this side, ergo it's locked."
"Well, yes, but all we've done is push on it. Did you see that there's no latch on this side?"
That brought her to a stop. "Fine, so there isn't a latch on this side. It's not like I can reach through and-"
Now her eyes were wide and locked on his. Suddenly the illness wasn't quite as terrifying as it had been.
"Maybe you couldn't have a couple of hours ago, but now…" he let it hang.
"I'm warning you, Seafleet, if I get stuck in there for one minute-"
"I'll pull you out, I promise."
She walked over to the door and pressed her hand on what was likely the latch side and pressed with all her might. Slowly, her hand fell into the wood, further and further. She concentrated; her heavy brow twisted in a dark knot that suggested it was not only difficult, it was painful. After what felt like an hour, something clicked and she pulled her hand back out. The door swung open with no problem.
"I can't believe that worked," he said.
"I think I've got some splinters under my skin," she answered, rubbing her hand.
"Let's go." They moved out of the room as quickly as they dared and ran headlong into an Ocampa in the hallway. She nearly fell over, but Kim grabbed at her with his blurry hands. She slipped out of his indistinct grasp onto the floor anyway. Undeterred, she jumped right back on to her feet.
"Do-ung shai'zai jian duan rui?" she said and Kim translated something like 'do you feel better than from before?'
"I understood that!" said Kim. "How did I understand her?" Torres shrugged.
"That psionic link must have done more than simply translate the language. We must have learned it, too."
Both fascinated and disturbed by learning a language without realizing it, he tried to speak it for himself.
"[We are not as well as we want to be,]" he said. "[Can you understand me?]"
She actually smiled at them. "[Yes! How did you get out?]"
"[What about me?]" said Torres, trying the new language for herself.
"[Yes, but how did you get out?]" said the woman.
"[I reached through the door and turned the handle,]" said Torres, challenging her.
The woman didn't look like she believed it. "[Well, in any case, you need to save your strength.]"
"[For what?]" asked Kim, taking a page from Torres's book.
"[They were right – you do ask a lot of questions. No Ocampa would ask as many questions or say such things as you do. I brought you this –]" she passed Kim a vial. "[It's a medicine. It comes from the Upper Village, where they grow their food instead of relying on the Caretaker. The elders say it's disrespectful to the Caretaker, but they do it anyway.]" She met their eyes slowly, trying to find words.
"[I'm very sorry for what's happened to you. I'd give you answers if I had them, but so many things are uncertain lately. People appear out of thin air and then slowly disappear the same way, the Caretaker has been sending us enough supplies to last years – it seems like everything is changing.]"
"[Why are you helping us?]" said Torres. Kim shot her a look, worried that she was jeopardizing their chances, but she ignored him.
"[I heard the questions you asked Diga. They made me think. What if there's more to our life than just staying down here?]"
Answering any question this woman had was a violation of the Prime Directive. Every Seafleet trained part of Kim was screaming to preserve this woman from any outside influences, but she was sincere in her want of knowledge. And her want could save their lives.
"[Yes, there is more to see outside your city. We need to get to the surface to find our people and you want to see it. Maybe we should work together.]"
The woman gave a wan smile. "[All right. But I don't know where to start.]"
"[Have you heard of anyone leaving?]" asked Kim.
"[There was one girl who left, supposedly. But no one really knows for sure. She didn't come from the city, so it might only be a rumor.]" The woman's eyes flicked about, as if she was worried someone would overhear. "[The elders would say it's against the Caretaker's wishes for you, or anyone, to leave.]"
"[What do you say?]" asked Torres, challenging yet gentle.
Now she looked distinctly nervous and actually spoke in a whisper. "[I don't want you to suffer, of course, but I honestly don't know the way out.]"
The two strangers looked at each other, sad.
"[Well, they might know something I don't in the Upper Village – I can take you there, at least.]"
She began walking and Kim and Torres came after her, quick as they could manage.
The woman led them between houses and over bridges for nearly an hour. They eventually turned into a small, forgotten tunnel in what had to be the outermost wall of the cave the city had been carved out of. Ancient stairs had been cut into the stone, leading upwards to infinity. A thick layer of dust coated everything. Kim gazed up into the darkness, imagining the grueling hike that lay ahead and suddenly he couldn't take it anymore. He groped at the wall for support, then felt his knees give way. Torres slapped him on the shoulder.
"Come on, get up."
"I – I can't," he gasped.
"Don't let it beat you, Seafleet!" she snarled, tugging on his arm.
"[Wait, please don't fight,]" said the woman. "[We'll need a light. You rest here and I'll go get one.]"
Torres nodded and she left. The half Klingon sat down a few steps ahead of the young Human; grateful too for the respite.
Kim watched the woman leave, glanced up the dark staircase and felt the weakening of his body. He gave an ironic chuckle.
"You know, I spent my whole life getting ready for Seafleet." His hopelessness must have come through in his tone, because he felt Torres's hand rest lightly on his shoulder. Or as much as it could rest, since he was so faded all he could feel was a faint pressure.
"And on my first mission…" he reached up to intertwine his fingers with hers as best he could. "I'm gonna die…"
She squeezed his hand with both of hers, somehow feeling all the more solid for its sincerity. "We're not out of this yet. I know a few tricks old Sneezy didn't teach in his survival course."
Kim turned to see her smiling, actually smiling kindly at him. He couldn't remember her doing it before now and suddenly wished she'd done it earlier. The effect was startling and delightful; she looked like a whole different person.
"Sneezy?" he finally repeated, remembering he didn't know what she was talking about.
"Commander Zakarian, remember?" She joggled his arm playfully. "He must have been allergic to everything."
The memory of a white-hair man with watery red eyes flashed in his mind. He couldn't picture the man without a handkerchief, even on those weeklong training hikes that always seemed like they'd be the death of him.
"You went to the academy?"
She nodded, eyes distant. "Actually made it to my second year before we 'mutually agreed' that it wasn't the place for me."
Kim nodded, recognizing the euphemism for expulsion. He squeezed her hand in sympathy and she withdrew it, the moment of rapport leaving with it.
"I fit in a lot better with the renegades," she finished with a shrug.
"You know, I never really liked Zakarian," he said. It was easier to say than what he had wanted to say.
She seemed to hear him both ways and gave him a playful shove. They sat on the stairs in an easy silence, resting, waiting for their guide to return.