8

Kneeling in the beach sand, feeling the midmorning energy from the white Andorian sun warming her neck, Prynn checked and double-checked the four gear packs: tricorders, grappling hooks, karabiners, pitons, climbing cables, harnesses, field medical kit, canteens, ration bars to fuel them for the duration…. All appeared to be complete and in working order. And then there are the three phasers, she noted grimly. The question is who I’m going to have to use this thing on? she thought, glancing over at Thia, who was orienting Phillipa and Shar with a map of the Reserve.

Satisfied that they had all the equipment they needed, she touched her combadge, notifying ch’Shal aboard the aquacraft anchored off shore that the mission would be underway shortly. The team would maintain communications silence for the next twenty-five hours, unless they found Vretha sooner, or were forced to abort. Back at the keep, Thantis would be in the unenviable position of telling Homeworld Security what they had done, and reinforcing the fact that any interference with the rescue op would jeopardize all their lives, Vretha’s included.

By dawn tomorrow this will all be over, one way or another, she thought, zipping the formfitting expedition suit up her neck. The suits were of the Zha’s own design and manufacture, created, she’d explained, for Thia’s fieldwork. The second-skin feel of the unusual fabric took some getting used to—she felt practically naked. But it was flexible, breathed well and, according to Thantis, would absorb impacts and even withstand blades up to a point. Phasers, Prynn assumed, were another matter.

Thia had wrapped her hair, turban style, in a long length of black cloth. When Phillipa asked her about it, she’d claimed that this remote nature preserve—an island roughly the size of the Indian peninsula—was “sacred” land and she would not “offend the Guardians” by appearing vain and disrespectful. Her back to the zhen, Prynn had rolled her eyes, inviting a withering glare from Commander Matthias. After that, Prynn had realized she needed a few minutes to herself, and volunteered to recheck their packs while the others discussed the journey ahead.

“So here we are,” she muttered under her breath, “in the middle of nowhere.” And other than the four of them, Prynn saw little life. Spindly deciduous trees clustered at the base of a waterfall provided a splash of vivid greens and maroons. Otherwise, the only observable plants were bristly brown-shrubs and clumps of yellowing, sun-ripened beach grasses sprouting from the dunes shushing in the late-afternoon winds. Small multipeds sunning on rocks and calls of unseen avians testified to animal inhabitants, but Prynn had no doubt about what held dominion here: sun, earth, and water.

The crescent beach of white-silica sand was enclosed by sheer layered cliffs of rust red sandstone, limestone, glassy crystalline gypsum, and grayish clay. The towering walls made it impossible to see the landscape above and beyond the beach. She knew, though, from the hour she’d spent studying the files provided by Thia, that this part of the Reserve was primarily desert, composed of dusty flats, water-carved peaks and canyons—some as deep as fifteen hundred to two thousand meters—and formations created by ancient volcanic activity. Prynn wasn’t surprised to learn that Andorians chose not to live in this place: the Reserve had been beaten, kneaded, exploded, and reformed by plate tectonics and the elements for longer than Andor had known sentient life.

Across from where they landed on the beach was the waterfall where they would start their journey into the continental interior.

Satisfied that their gear was prepared, Prynn fastened up the packs, threaded two on each arm, and trudged down the beach to join her teammates, who had taken momentary refuge in the scanty shade offered by a defoliated tree. Thia had placed the padd on a flat boulder, allowing them reference to the terrain she was describing. Prynn slid in beside Shar, tried catching his eye, but his attention remained fixed on Thia’s briefing.

Considering the stakes, Prynn tried not to personalize his behavior. But Shar had barely acknowledged her today, save with monosyllables and sharp nods. Typical male “morning after” behavior, she thought. Except that Shar wasn’t really male, and there hadn’t really been a “night” to have a “morning after.” At least not one that she recalled. Though she liked what she could remember of the heated encounter. Which might be part of Shar’s problem. Maybe he knew something she didn’t and that was the source of the tension between them. Of course, she wouldn’t know what he knew unless he deigned to speak to her. Prynn made a promise to renew her anti-relationship/anti-male stance as soon as all potential tragedies had been averted. It wasn’t fair to resent Shar before that. But after? Once Vretha was safe, Thriss’s funeral was over, and Thia’s bondmates were in custody, Prynn would make him talk to her. Until then, she would tolerate his disinterested silences.

“We scale that rock formation over there,” Thia said, pointing to a sheer-faced red rock escarpment, “on a path parallel to the waterfall. Midway up the falls, we will enter into a cave that’s hidden behind the water. From there, we will go through the cave, tracing the path of a creek back to where it originates in a narrow slot canyon. The slot canyon opens onto the Great Wash. By then, it will be almost dark and we’ll be able to move more openly. The mouth of the lava tube where I believe they’ve taken Vretha is a few kilometers past Temple Butte within the Coral Canyon complex.”

“Why is it called the ‘Great Wash’?” Phillipa asked, taking the padd off the boulder to examine it more carefully.

“Once upon a time, the wash formed the bottom of a primeval lake. Now, it’s just a huge, relatively flat basin that is more or less a ‘trunk’ for dozens of smaller canyons that branch off it. It’s still eroded by flash floods produced by torrential rainfall. Other questions?”

Taking the padd from Phillipa, Prynn studied their route, realizing that even if they moved quickly, reaching the lava tube would require an all-night hike. “We should probably stop talking and start moving.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Thia said. “Are we ready?”

Prynn snorted. “Of course.” She passed each person their backpack. Shar carried the bulk of their climbing gear. Phillipa was in charge of their medkit and tools. The rest of their equipment was divvied up between Prynn and Thia. As Prynn hitched the pack onto her back and adjusted the straps around her waist so the weight was equally distributed, Thia watched critically.

“A resting spot will be available after we pass through the cave and into the canyon. Otherwise, I can assume part of your load. I assure you it would be no burden.”

Instead of firing off a snappy comeback, Prynn counted backward from ten before answering. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying twenty kilos more than this.”

“But after a saf overdose?”

Realizing that Thia didn’t have the cultural reference point to understand that being called a female dog was an insult, Prynn let the zhen’s comment go.

“Let’s be on our way, shall we?” Phillipa said, positioning herself in line between Prynn, who brought up the rear, and Thia, who walked behind Shar.

For a minute, Phillipa hung back so she could walk side by side with Prynn. “Don’t make me regret allowing you to join this mission, Ensign Tenmei. You might technically be on leave, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re an officer on Starfleet duty, under my command,” she said, sotto voce. “Comport yourself appropriately.”

“Yes, sir,” Prynn said, taking a deep breath and neutralizing her expression. She owed it to Shar to be on her best behavior.

Studying the back of Thia’s turban-swaddled head, Prynn decided that maybe she should avoid the rush and start hating the zhen before she exposed her traitorous inclinations. She would savor every I-told-you-so.

* * *

The climb up the waterfall face was straightforward; they could easily top rope and belay at the foot of the falls. The presence of a climbing anchor fastened near the top of the falls required only that Shar have decent aim when he launched the self-attaching cable. Not surprisingly, Shar made swift work of his tasks; the cable was secured and the belay device hitched up shortly after he started. The only question remaining was how the group would be organized. Thia volunteered to lead the team into the cave: after all, she was the only person in the group familiar with the terrain.

The mission is an hour old and I’m already forced to make a judgment call, Phillipa thought. Sending Thia first might be logical, but it also had risks: She didn’t entirely trust the zhen—not for the same reasons Prynn might give—but the end result was the same. Thia had a conflict of interest when it came to Vretha’s kidnappers. When faced with a choice between Vretha and her bondmates, Phillipa wasn’t certain who Thia would protect or that she should be forced to make that decision. To keep an eye on their de facto guide, Phillipa decided that the team members would “buddy” for the duration of the mission. She would pair up with Prynn, while Thia would partner with Shar. Another risk, there, especially considering the incident back at the keep. As disturbingly savage as Shar’s attack had been, however, both Andorians seemed to find it easy to put it aside, once an understanding had been reached. Once again, Phillipa couldn’t help but be fascinated by the culture of this world, the seeming contradictions and subtle subtexts, the complex relationships among the four sexes, the unique stresses their biology-defined social structure put on each and every one of them throughout their lives. In that context, having Shar and Thia pair up seemed the safest choice. They understood one another; if Thia was up to something, Shar would likely see it before any of them.

In the end, Shar led out, fixing the karabiners and pitons for those who followed after. When Shar signaled that he’d completed his climb, Thia started off. Phillipa remained at the bottom, harnessed into the belay device, keeping an eye on the cable tension. Prynn paced as she waited her turn, kicking up dirt and pebbles.

Thia climbed, quick and nimble, vanishing behind a wind-carved palisade. A few minutes later, a beep on the belay device indicated that Thia had unfastened the harness. Shortly after, the harness came sliding down the cable, ready for Prynn to use.

Prynn slid the harness up over her thighs and fastened it around her waist. Phillipa double-checked her work, and once she was certain that the harness was secure, she attached the cable.

“I’m only looking out for Shar’s safety,” Prynn said quietly.

“Of course you are. So am I,” Phillipa said. “But I’d advise you to examine your motivations more carefully—they might not be as selfless as you think.” She took the ensign’s phaser and deactivated the safety. “You need to be ready to use this,” she said, reattaching the weapon to Prynn’s waist.

Prynn said nothing, her resolve evident in her eyes.

As Phillipa watched the young woman ascend the rock, it began to sink in just how uncertain the outcome of their mission was, especially given the powerful emotional components. Thia was dangerously conflicted, and the closer they drew to their goal, Phillipa guessed, the worse it would become. Shar appeared to be focused, but he held himself apart—his aloofness could be problematic. On the other extreme, Prynn was an open conduit, her emotions surging so close to the surface that the merest provocation could initiate an overload.

Another beep from the belay device. Shar was ready for her.

Smiling wanly as she thought of her charges, Phillipa remembered how exhausting it was being in her twenties when each twist of life and love felt impossibly serious. And while she recognized that the two ensigns had developed much maturity in surviving their respective traumas, they were still young. Mistakes would be made and forgiven; they would live to love another day. She gave a good hard pull on the cable, and finding it taut, began her ascent.

* * *

Had the mission allowed for it, Shar would have indulged in a study of his surroundings. The feldspar cave-grotto flashed blue as it reflected the sunlight reflecting off the clear water. He could see smokefish streaking around the pools, scattering with each step he took. Once Phillipa arrived in the cave and they’d repacked their climbing gear, the hiking began in earnest. As they followed the creek backward, the beige sandstone walls revealed a dramatic geological history with fossils, cavern paintings, and petrified wood embedded in the bluffs.

The team followed along the meandering creek for hours, emerging out of the cave into a narrow slot canyon—perhaps two arm spans across. Tall, water-polished walls closed in on both sides, squeezing out the sky and creating deep pools of shadow on the barren canyon floor. Stillness, unbroken save by the gurgling water, testified to the remoteness of this place; layer upon layer of rock compressed together had formed the canyon walls, revealing a history beyond living memory. He knew his ancestors had once sought refuge in this rugged country, but Shar felt as if he were among the first ever to walk this water-smoothed limestone path. None of them spoke. The desire to avoid detection would be the obvious reason, but he could sense awe from everyone—a sense of being small, of insignificance in the face of such majesty.

“Astonishing, is it not?” Thia said, so softly that the others couldn’t hear.

“I had no idea…” Shar said. Near the top, gold-soaked daylight saturated the cream and rust and brown of the rock walls, exuding a glorious, cathedral-like solemnity.

“We’ve lost touch with our past and this place is where we came from. You’re bound to connect with it.”

“You really believe that? That this is where our species evolved?”

Thia nodded. “That’s what the Codices say.”

Shar was dubious. “But proof. Relics. Bones. Rock carvings. We know someone was here anciently, but how do we know that someone was what we think of as an Andorian?”

“Where is your faith, Thirishar? You believe that science has the tools to save our people, but you aren’t so foolish as to pretend that you understand all of its mysteries. That is faith. Or perhaps that is your obstacle—that you believe the chance to save our people lies outside.”

“Let me anticipate—you believe that the Infinite will save us.”

“No, I believe that as we, as a people and as bonds, become one—become Whole—we will find our answers. Until then, the gates of Uzaveh are closed to us.”

Shar sighed, shaking his head. Maybe once he would have agreed with her. Maybe now, part of him wanted to believe her. But he was too skeptical by nature to accept such an answer. While he had seen many inexplicable, even miraculous occurrences in his short life, Shar had yet to view any as attributable to a god of Andor.

Weeks ago, when the observant Bajorans on DS9 attended all-night services to thank the Prophets for once again saving Bajor from a threat and restoring their Emissary to them, Shar had wondered what Bajor had done to deserve such protection. Whether the Prophets were gods or nonlinear beings who existed outside space and time didn’t matter: semantics, as far as Shar was concerned. What did matter was that these powerful entities cared about the Bajorans enough to influence the course of events so that Bajor would continue to thrive. Where were Andor’s gods? If anyone needed divine mercy, it was the Andorians.

“How does going backward result in progress?” Prynn said, interrupting Shar’s thoughts.

Glancing back at her, walking a few paces behind, Shar saw the challenge in her eye and was intrigued. He stepped closer to Thia so that they could walk three abreast.

“I don’t accept your assertion that having faith is going backward,” Thia said.

“I wasn’t implying that it was. But from a purely outsider point of view, all this forcing together of bonds to be ‘Whole’ doesn’t appear to be working out too well.”

“Really, Ensign,” Thia said, “I would have thought a Starfleet officer would be more inclined to withhold judgment of a culture she obviously does not understand.” Before Prynn could fire off a retort, Thia continued: “The policy of forming bonds by design evolved only as a means of coping with our present circumstances, and only in the absence of a more permanent solution. Andorians are not able to produce enough children to sustain our species anymore. There are now less than ninety million of us left, in all the universe, where once we were almost three billion strong.

“But there was a time when our numbers were not so diminished, when having children was not so difficult. In that time, bonds formed freely, and we became Whole by choice, not by necessity. We hope to see such a time return, but for that to transpire, we must invest in the future.”

“By sacrificing the present,” Prynn said.

Thia stopped and looked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re procuring the future by giving up the here and now.”

The entire team halted. Thia glanced briefly at Shar before her gaze returned to Prynn. “We’re fighting for our lives.”

“No, you said it yourself: You’re fighting for the future. You’re paying with your lives. You’ve reengineered yourselves socially to believe that your first responsibility is to prolong the survival of your species. You indoctrinate yourselves with that belief from childhood. Your children think their highest purpose is to create more children. And to fulfill that purpose, they’re raised to be the best possible partners, lovers, and parents—to want the bond, and to love bondmates they haven’t even chosen.”

Thia lifted her chin. “It is a responsibility we embrace, and we celebrate it joyfully.”

“Well, most of you do, but that cultural mind-set leaves little room for failure, doesn’t it? A single health crisis or fatality—hell, even a single voice of dissent—before children can be conceived, and four lives are essentially destroyed. The very thing you’ve been taught is your greatest purpose in life is gone, unless you find an unbonded stranger with just the right genetic profile to step in damn fast. But I suspect most shattered bonds aren’t that lucky, am I right? One broken link in the chain, for any reason, and it all comes apart.”

“That’s enough, Prynn,” Matthias said.

“How dare you,” Thia hissed. “How dare you presume to judge us, you whose kind has never had to face such a crisis, or such choices. By what right do you condemn us?”

“I don’t condemn you,” Prynn said gently. “But I question any system that produces what I think are unexamined consequences. Maybe it’s buying the time your species needs. But what I’ve seen—what I’ve experienced since I’ve gotten to know Shar, and since I’ve come here—makes me wonder if it also isn’t killing you all inside.

“It’s no wonder your people have gained a reputation for violence. All the pressure you put on yourselves, all the self-inflicted stress you endure throughout your lives, it’s a miracle you aren’t all suicidal.”

As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Shar could see that Prynn regretted them and wished she could call them back. Eyes wide, she looked pleadingly at him. “Oh, God, I’m sorry…Shar, I…”

Shar stepped calmly in front of her. “Is that really what you think?” He watched Prynn struggling to decide what she should say, saw the calm settle over her face as she chose.

“Yeah…yeah, it is.”

“Then don’t be sorry. Never be sorry,” he told her, and resumed walking. He could feel their eyes on his back.

“That’s all you have to say?” Thia asked.

Shar answered without turning. “I suppose I could remark on the irony of hearing my own long-standing arguments with my zhavey replayed by two different individuals, but other than that, no.”

“How can you allow an alien to speak of Shathrissía in such a manner?”

Shar stopped and turned to face her, frowning. “How can you, as a scientist, not even consider her arguments? True, Prynn will likely never truly know or completely understand the extreme circumstances that have led to what our culture has become, but she has, I think, accurately summarized the side effects of the steps we’ve taken to hold back our extinction. We may indeed buy the time we need to save ourselves as a species…but I have wondered if merely staying alive is enough of a reason to keep living.”

“That’s enough, all of you,” Phillipa snapped, cutting off whatever response Thia was about to make. “Much as I understand the need for this kind of exchange, this isn’t the time. It’s counterproductive to our mission, and it’s going to stop.” Phillipa looked up. “We’ve got more immediate problems, anyway.”

“Sir?” Prynn said.

“Look up.”

The team complied. A swiftly moving dark cloud mass shrouded the sky. The low growl of thunder quivered the air.

Shar checked his tricorder. “Two air masses collided. The barometric pressure is dropping rapidly. A storm should be here any second.”

“Run,” Thia said, her steady composure belied by her admonition. “We have to get out of here.”

* * *

They had cleared only a few hundred meters before torrents of rain poured into the canyon, rendering the smooth rock slick and dangerous; moving swiftly and safely became challenging. Prynn repeatedly lost her footing, twisting her ankles and bruising her knees. The rain fell faster than she could blink it away; she found her way by feeling for handholds in the canyon walls. The deafening clatter of the downpour drowned out all other sound. Stumbling, she crashed into a rock cluster; she tried finding her feet, but the slurping mud refused to release its grip on her boots.

A hand on her arm. Shar. Pulling her up, he towed her along beside him until they emerged out of the twisty narrows into a basin—the Great Wash, a cankered lunar landscape scarred with craters and broken stone. The shortest route across the bowl meandered in and around lava rock domes and rounded mushroom-like knobs. Prynn glanced behind and, satisfied that Phillipa and Thia could keep up, started jogging with Shar toward the other side.

Then she heard the crash. A wind gust raged through the basin; the ground shook.

Flash flood.

She exchanged panicked looks with Shar. Higher ground. We have to find higher ground. Through the curtain of rain, she squinted: on the opposite side of the basin she saw a series of thick, gray shale fingers splayed down a terraced slope of an ancient seashore.

They ran.

Throwing clots of mud and water spray behind her, she pumped her legs and arms as hard as she could, sputtering and choking on rainwater, her flight fueled by fear. She saw the dark shapes of her teammates off to the side as they struggled to reach the terraces.

The roar intensified as it ripped through the canyons. Prynn crawled over the top of the ledge first, braced her foot against a boulder, pulled Shar, then Phillipa, up to safety.

The deluge came. A rushing wall of muddy water, rocks, plants, and uprooted trees burst from the narrows where they’d been minutes before.

Below them, through the blurring gray sheets of rain, she saw black—Thia’s turban.

She didn’t wait. Leaping off the ledge, Prynn skidded down the muddy silt of the terrace slope, using her feet to break the speed of her fall. She reached Thia and quickly ascertained that the zhen’s foot had become wedged in a crevasse. From behind, Prynn hooked her arms under Thia’s and pulled; over the roaring water, she heard Thia’s pained cries.

“Point your toes,” Prynn shouted, her words barely audible in her own ears. “Flatten your foot!”

Gritting her teeth, Thia complied. Prynn pulled Thia straightaway from the crevasse, freeing her foot. She threw her arm around the zhen’s waist; Thia draped her arm over Prynn’s shoulder. Allowing Thia to shift her weight onto her, Prynn pushed toward the terrace. Any hesitation and the greedy floodwaters would consume them. Each breath burned and her strained muscles quivered, but she pressed on toward the ledge—and safety.

Shar had thrown down the climbing cable and Prynn shoved Thia toward it, then lashed the cable around the zhen’s shoulders and under her arms. As Shar pulled Thia onto the terrace, Prynn, with help from Phillipa, dragged herself up next to her. The group sat in silence, watching the water rip through the basin, foaming and tossing, effortlessly ensnaring boulders, trees, and mounds of sand and dirt.

Then, as abruptly as it began, the rain stopped. The clouds parted, revealing the serene periwinkle face of night. Gradually, the floodwaters relaxed; the currents slowed. A few minor rapids had been created, but the worst of the danger had passed.

While they waited for the weather to stabilize, Phillipa mended Thia’s sprain and administered some mild painkillers. Save a few scrapes on her face, Prynn was unhurt. Thia tried to thank her, but she shrugged off the zhen’s gratitude. What she did, she would do for anyone. Nobility didn’t figure into it. And after their heated exchange, despite what Shar had said, she was feeling anything but noble.

As Shar passed out ration bars, Thia said, “Since we’d need a watercraft to navigate the basin, we can’t follow our original route. We’ll have to climb up this series of terraces and out onto the flats. After three or four kilometers across the plateau, there’s a switch-back trail descending into the Coral Canyon via the Temple Path.”

“Are you fit to travel?” Phillipa asked Thia.

She nodded, flexing her ankle.

Phillipa reassembled her medkit. “You’ll have to lead, Shar. I’ll belay after Prynn and Thia.”

Coiling up the cable, Shar sidestepped out onto a ledge. Hands above his head, he felt the rock face, searching for the best spot to place a piton for the first belay station.

* * *

In order to avoid a tumble into the muddy floodwaters flowing through the basin, the climb proceeded slowly into the evening. Phillipa made only one misstep where she hadn’t reset the tension on the belayer after Prynn. Too much slack resulted in her losing her footing, falling backward, and dangling in midair, swinging like a pendulum. She’d had the sense to right her body so that she took the impact of the crash into the rock wall with her backpack instead of her face. Shar, who had been supervising her climb from the top, had made the necessary adjustments to stabilize her position. After a few precious minutes (and a face full of gritty sandstone), she’d found a foothold to wedge her boot in and she’d resumed the climb. Now, she stood—gratefully—on the most secure ground she’d seen since the security aquacraft had transported them to the beach five hours ago.

A spiderweb burst of white light momentarily blinded her; she dropped her head, pinched her eyelids together, and blinked away the visual disturbance. She shook her head, discovering that her neck was sore. Massaging the muscles at the base of her head, she winced at their tenderness. Pebble-sized glandular lumps resisted her touch. No time to worry about it, though, she thought, betting that she suffered from a pronounced lack of sleep, tinged by dehydration and hunger. So what’s next…?

Shar, Prynn, and Thia knelt in a half-circle, the tricorder resting on a backpack in front of them. Phillipa listened a few moments as the three of them discussed the best path to take. They have everything under control. I’ll just work on prepping the gear so we can leave.

As she stood upright, a burning flush surged through her skin and she put a hand to her forehead: hot. Looking down at her hand, she noticed clusters of red welts, some pustule-like. They itched. She rubbed them against her expedition suit. She had been exposed to plenty of allergens since they started off. Damn. I’ll have to get the ointments later.

“You all ready to leave?” she said as she loaded the last of the equipment into Shar’s pack. Her own pack felt binding and uncomfortable over her shoulders. She shrugged it off, adjusted the straps.

Thia nodded, and held up the tricorder for Phillipa to see. “I’ve mapped out the quickest route. If you want to pass me your tri—” She paused, her jaw dropped. She blinked. “Shar, hold up your wrist light.”

“Where?”

“On Commander Matthias’s face.”

Phillipa winced at the beam being thrown in her face. “Is this necessary?”

“I see them,” Shar said.

She heard the fear in his voice. “See what?” Phillipa said, rubbing her eyes with her fists. The bright beam stung and her eyes watered. And she suddenly felt prickly, crawling tickles on her cheeks. She swiped at her face with an open palm, saw black and red smudges on her hands.

“I see them too, but I don’t know what I’m seeing,” Prynn said.

“See what?”

“Shax nests,” Thia said. “You must have disturbed a shax colony when you crashed into the rock face. That’s where they live. Some of them obviously found the exposed areas of your skin.”

“Is this—” Phillipa slapped at her neck where the prickling continued. “—something I should worry about?” Peeling down the top of her expedition suit, she looked at her arms and chest, discovering that her skin had erupted in swollen welts.

“Only if we didn’t have a medical kit,” Thia said, taking Phillipa’s backpack from her. Kneeling down, she unfastened the flap, and Phillipa watched her fishing around. “The shax prefer to nest just inside the epidermis of their host to lay their eggs; their saliva is toxic. One shax won’t hurt you, but a massive infestation could make you…” Her voice failed.

“What is it?” Phillipa asked. She could sense the zhen’s apprehension. Imagining her skin crawling with insects, she shook her arms and hands, swiped at her limbs. The gushing hot sensation increased and she felt blurry, disoriented.

Thia sat back on her legs, took a deep breath. “The medkit was smashed when you crashed into the rock face. I can’t generate the serum.”

“Can you repair it?” Phillipa asked, louder than she intended, and the sound of her own voice reverberated painfully in her head.

Shar examined the damage to the kit, issued his verdict: “No. Not quickly enough, and not with the tools we have. We’ll have to abort. I’m calling for an extraction.” Before Phillipa could protest, Shar touched his combadge and attempted to contact the aquacraft offshore.

Shar’s image swam before Phillipa’s eyes as he moved. The bright, red-tinged sharpness of delirium was setting in, exaggerating all sensation. Swaying forward, Phillipa nearly collapsed. Prynn caught her, eased her to a sitting position.

“—pattern scramblers must be proof against comm signals as well,” she heard Shar saying. “I can’t get through, and I have no idea how far we’d have to travel to move out of their range.”

Thia snapped into action, turned to Shar and Prynn. “I need one of you to find a plant for me. Look on the underside of any outcropping of rocks for small clusters—it would look furry, mosslike—with little yellow and white flowers growing on the top. I need as many handfuls of it as you can locate.”

“I’ll do it,” Shar said. “Is it Shanchen’s mantle?”

“Yes,” Thia said. “Prynn, we’ll need hot water, at least two liters. I’ll also need a sharp, narrow piece of metal. Several if you can manage. The points will need to be made quite hot.”

“I could slice up one of the karabiners,” Prynn suggested.

“Do it.”

To Phillipa, she said, “Take off your suit. I need to be able to see every welt.”

Drops of sweat became rivulets drizzling down her face. “Tell me—tell me honestly what’s going to happen,” she said, her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth.

“Very shortly, you’re going to feel pain throughout your body—as if someone were skinning you. If the poison progresses, you might experience some paralysis.”

“And then?” She coughed.

“If I can’t devise a poultice for you, you’ll develop a high fever, the poison will break down the clotting factor in your blood, and you’ll hemorrhage.”

Mireh and Arios and Sibias flashed before her eyes. Their faces blurred, then dissolved as she passed out.

* * *

Prynn ripped open an emergency blanket, giving Phillipa a clean place to lie down. Together, Prynn and Thia undressed her, whereupon Thia unwound her turban and used it to cover Phillipa’s fevering body. Prynn gathered together a pile of large rocks nearby, set a couple of open canteens among them, and then fired her phaser at the stones until they glowed red hot. The water quickly came to a boil. Prynn then went to work using her phaser to slice a karabiner into sharp narrow rods.

Shar returned with the plants. Thia confirmed they were the correct variety and added them to the water. Several ointments and analgesics from the remains of the medkit would augment the treatment. Once the plants had cooked together, the poultice would be applied to all the affected areas; Phillipa would have to ingest whatever remained. Thia readily admitted she didn’t know how well her folk medicine would work, especially on a human.

Prynn quickly figured out what Thia intended to do with the metal pieces. Red welts indicated a midstage nest; the pustules indicated eggs about to hatch. A red-hot poker held over a welt would force the nesting shax out of the skin. The same poker pressed into a pustule would destroy the eggs before they hatched.

The first time she singed a pustule with the heated karabiner end, Prynn felt Phillipa’s involuntary flinch; the smoke from the burning skin permeated her nose and eyes and throat and she wanted to vomit. A brief glance at Thia revealed the zhen felt similarly. They pressed on, working to stem the infestation. Dark red-purple capillary nets appeared on the surface of Phillipa’s skin, indicating that the poison had already spread into her bloodstream at those places. Soon, Phillipa’s torso was covered with oozing, black burns.

At last, when the plant concoction was ready, Prynn used her phaser to slice off the tops of the canteens. Shar peeled off his expedition suit to the waist and stripped off his tanktop, which he ripped into strips and tossed the pieces into the solution to soak. He then applied the makeshift bandages to Phillipa’s legs. Prynn and Thia wrapped her upper body. Once her exposed skin had been covered, Thia scooped the limp, shriveled leaves and flowers out of canteens and smeared them over the bandages.

After making Phillipa as comfortable as possible, the team seemed to be at a loss about how to proceed. “What do we do now?” Prynn said, running the tricorder over Phillipa’s body. For now, her vitals had stabilized.

Thia sighed. “I think she’s out of danger, but Phillipa needs to rest and heal. Fortunately, coming up to this plateau saved us time—we can afford to wait a while. We’ll have to start off for the lava cave by second moonrise—sometime in the next couple of hours. At that point, we’ll have to decide whether to abort the mission or split up.” She shifted from side to side, twitching. Twisting her arm behind her, she scratched at her back.

“Thia,” Prynn said, worried. “Your back…”

“It isn’t shax,” Thia assured her. “Since I started weaning my thei, my kheth is drying up more quickly than is comfortable. The sensation is—itchy. I will be fine.”

Shar fidgeted. He looked uncomfortable. Prynn looked from Thia to Shar. Neither one seemed prepared to say more. She sensed subtext, but she wasn’t Phillipa: reading people, especially Andorians who did their damnedest not to be read, wasn’t her gift. I’m too worn out to ask. She slapped her thighs. “Well then, I’m going to try to freshen up.”

“There’s a little stream a few dozen meters from here,” Shar said without making eye contact, nodding in the direction he’d gone to search for Shanchen’s mantle.

“That’ll do.” She picked her way around the brush and the rocks. She could hear the water when she realized she’d forgotten her pack with all her hygiene supplies, so she turned around.

The low murmur of talk alerted her to activity. Not wanting to disturb them, she approached slowly. Her pack was propped against a prickly shrub. Reaching for it from behind, she stole a glance—

Heart racing in her chest, she hastened toward the stream. She would have run all the way back to DS9 if she could have.

* * *

“I am uncertain as to the propriety of this situation, Thirishar,” Thia said, lying prone on the ground. She pillowed her head on her forearms.

I am equally uncertain, but such as it is, we do what we must, Shar thought. “I suspect you would not feel comfortable asking Prynn to help you in this way.” Pushing up the fabric of her undergarment, he exposed Thia’s lower back, feeling both intrigued and repelled by the crusting, scabbing lines of the kheth that wrapped her lower torso. Studying sexual anatomy and physiology, learning the processes of pleasuring a partner, of creating and delivering a child—none of these things had prepared him for the reality of a zhavey’s body so soon after birth: her back mottled in purple pigmentation, the coagulated blood and kheth gel, the weeping gash, dark blue with irritation. His hand hovered over her back, uncertain as to whether he should touch her.

“You are uncomfortable. I know this forces intimacy between us that is not to be shared outside the bond.” Thia pushed down her undershirt, turned on her side, and started to sit up before Shar gently pressed on her shoulder.

“No. I will help.”

He poured a handful of fruity oil into his palm; he drizzled it onto her wound and the surrounding area. Pressing his fingertips into her skin, he rubbed the oil into the dry patches, feeling the roughness yielding to his ministrations. He felt Thia relax. Her breath assumed an easy rhythm, and he focused on making her comfortable.

“Though I do not regret allowing you to ease my discomfort, I feel…I feel that I have cheated you of the chance to share this first with a bond of your own.”

Shar swallowed hard. “I have yielded my position in my bondgroup to another.”

“I know you have lost Shathrissía, but why separate yourself from the chance to experience such joy with those you love?”

He sat in silence, poured more oil onto her back, kneaded it into her skin.

“I know that we see things differently, Thirishar. But do not punish yourself for Shathrissía’s choice. Do not deny yourself your birthright—the greatest blessing of your existence: the shelthreth. There is nothing you can experience more majestic than when the four become Whole.”

She was remembering, he could sense it, and he felt possessed with a longing to make those kinds of memories for himself, though he couldn’t imagine how.

Abruptly, Thia rolled onto her back and pushed up into a sitting position. Her eyes were gray-green; he hadn’t noticed before.

For a long moment, she studied his face, though Shar turned away from her scrutiny, still hiding, still protecting himself.

Thia reached for him, curled her hand gently around his chin and pulled his face back around so they were once again face-to-face. He felt her compassion, the comfort she offered. In turn, he released the sorrow, the fears that had been tormenting him for too long. He yielded as she enveloped him in her arms. Lying back onto the ground, she pulled him down onto her so his face rested in the V beneath her ribs, close to her heart. As she stroked his hair, curling her fingers in his locks, she whispered the soft chantings of his childhood.

He wet her skin with his tears.

* * *

Prynn waded into the gurgling stream, her discarded expedition suit folded neatly on a rock. The stench from Thia’s treatment of Phillipa’s wounds lingered in her nose. Nothing could purge it from Prynn’s senses—the crackling hiss of burning flesh, the arch of Phillipa’s back as she bucked from pain—and Thia had alternately held Phillipa’s hand and burned out the shax through it all. As it was, Prynn couldn’t summon the will to eat her dinner rations. She knew her body needed nourishment. Knowing what needed to be done and acting on that knowledge were two entirely different things.

Phillipa’s going to be all right, she reminded herself. She clung to the thought like a lifeline.

In the moonlight, the white-pink coral sands glowed like the underbelly of a seashell. How pristine the scene appeared with the furry foliage of the unfamiliar bushes, the occasional fist-sized arachnid scurrying into the brush. Under better circumstances, this might be romantic. Instead, she’d taken refuge alone, behind a giant limestone boulder, stripped down to her skin, pretending that the person whose attention she craved most would be sneaking up to surprise her at any moment. He wouldn’t be. She wasn’t stupid. Idealistic, yes, but stupid, no.

Fact: Only yesterday, Shar had shown inklings of romantic interest in her. He might be an Andorian chan, but he was male enough that she knew the signs. At least that’s what she’d believed at the time. Most of her recollections from the festival were murky, but undoubtedly, something had passed between them. Otherwise, why would he be treating her like she had the Marbagonian plague? Near the end, some of his response had been the saf—she granted that. But before the saf, she’d seen the looks, enjoyed the casual brushing up against her, felt the chemistry—because it was mutual! And except for that one moment of connection when she’d admitted her skepticism toward the Andorian way, he’d hardly made eye contact with her since they set out on this mission.

Initially, she thought he might be ignoring her out of embarrassment (which she shared) and/or guilt (which she understood). Seeing him with Thia modified her opinion somewhat.

Here, in solitude, she could indulge her jealousy. Biting down hard on her lip, she closed her eyes and replayed the scene in her mind. Thia had been facedown on the sand, arms flung above her head. Shar, oil bottle in hand, had poured some into his palm and began massaging her lower back where the kheth grew out of her spine. All right, having spent the last couple of days weaning her thei, her pouch was drying up, and the skin itched—she understood that. But couldn’t the mated zhavey put the damn oil on without Shar’s help? Or asked Prynn to do it?

Maybe not. Maybe Thia wouldn’t ask her. Prynn wasn’t Andorian. And maybe that’s what this all came down to—the fact that Shar was her friend and Thia had made her feel like the outsider.

Prynn sighed.

Scooping up a handful of water with her hand, she poured it over her shoulders, relishing the sensation of the rivulets. She closed her eyes, welcoming the chill brought on by the night breeze brushing her wet skin. The second moon would rise soon enough. For now, she savored these few stolen moments of peace.

* * *

Pausing first to listen for aural clues as to Shar and Thia’s status, Prynn cleared her throat as she approached their makeshift camp. She had no idea if the massage was an ongoing thing and she didn’t want to intrude. Andorians might not have personal-space issues, but humans did and Prynn couldn’t fully bypass her cultural programming. In spite of many summers spent on the Mediterranean rivieras where casual attitudes about nudity and sunbathing abounded, Prynn felt differently about seeing people she knew in “exposed” situations.

“So…” she said, her eyes sweeping up the trajectory of the second moon, over thousands of stars, brilliant and clear, and back down to earth. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into camp, if one could call a few backpacks and prostrate bodies “camp.”

Thia tended to Phillipa, mopping her graying face with a ripped shred of cloth. She nodded to Prynn in greeting, but continued working. A study in calm, Shar sat propped against a boulder, intently studying his tricorder.

“Have we made any decisions?” she asked.

“Phillipa is in no shape to travel,” Shar said, reattaching his tricorder to his hip. “Her vitals have improved, but her body will need to eliminate the poisons before she has the strength to move.”

“I will stay behind,” Thia said firmly.

“But you know where the lava tube is. You have more understanding of what we might expect,” Shar argued. “You can negotiate with your bondmates.”

“Once you descend from the plateau, the route is straightforward. The pathway is part of an archeological ruin—a temple. Traveling under cover of darkness protects you. Because of the radiological interference, my bondmates’ ability to use sensors is just as restricted as yours.” Thia eased Phillipa onto her side, peeled back her bandages, and studied her wounds. “Phillipa needs me far more than you do.”

With obvious reluctance, Shar agreed with Thia and started assembling his pack.

Prynn guzzled water from her spare canteen, then nibbled on a ration bar. With little sleep, she would need the extra energy.

“Shar.” Thia said. “Please…” Her voice trailed off. “My bondmates. Spare them if you can.”

Shar flexed his palm, pressed it to Thia’s; their eyes met. “I promise.”

“Wait.” Reaching beneath the neck of her expedition suit, Thia pulled out her betrothal shapla, pulled it over her head, and handed it to Shar. “Use this to prove that I travel with you. It may save you both—and your zhavey.”

“Thank you,” Shar said, bowing his head.

“Thank you,” Thia said.

Something has changed, Prynn thought, unable to pinpoint exactly when the change had come, for all of us. A barrier had fallen. Maybe it was as simple as trust growing between all three of them. And for the first time since she’d left the keep—hell, for the first time since they left Orbital Control—her anxiety lessened. An instinct deep inside her reassured her that all was as it should be. Prynn felt amazed by the confluence of life-changing realities binding her to Shar, Shar to Thia, Thia to Phillipa. One broken link…

None of us will break, she vowed. “Let’s get with it, Shar,” she said. “Your mother’s waiting.” A thought occurred. Time to be mature. “And Thia?”

The zhen looked up from her ministrations.

Prynn walked over to where she worked and extended her flattened palm.

Wide-eyed, Thia raised her hand slowly, gingerly touching her hand to Prynn’s. Their eyes met. She offered the zhen a slight smile. Thia bowed her head.

They stayed connected for a long moment before Prynn broke away.

* * *

Moving soundlessly across the flats, Prynn and Shar used the tricorder’s positioning system to guide them away from camp, out onto the open plateau. The second moon provided them with light to see by, but forced them into the shadows of the rock outcroppings to avoid detection. As far as Shar could see, the deserted, nearly barren plateau offered little to no shielding. Protecting Thia and Phillipa from the eyes of their enemies would be impossible after sunrise.

So we will be finished before sunrise.

Thankfully, Prynn was as nimble-footed as he was, her light, swift steps making quick work over the occasionally unstable sand pockets (rendered so by the rainstorm) and through the narrow clearings between low-growing brush and rock. They moved in tandem, one occasionally extending a hand to the other if the stones were slick or steep. When they reached the plateau’s edge, Shar discovered that they had missed the descent by a few hundred meters. Thia had warned them that the latent radiation in the geological formations interfered with sensors, and here was proof. He motioned Prynn beneath an overhang; he needed time to recalibrate his instrument to compensate for the interference.

“Shall we review our strategy?” Shar asked, wanting to broach the discomfort he sensed between them.

She sighed. “We follow the Temple Path to the base of the canyon. Lava tube entrance is approximately eight hundred meters due northwest from the ruins, behind a cluster of seep willows. Did I miss anything?”

He paused, sensing her tension. She had dozens of reasons to be frustrated with him. He didn’t know where to start; considering what they had ahead of them, now wasn’t the best time. “No,” he said finally.

“Good.” She sat down, peeled off her hood, took a swig off her water, and offered it to him. Not thirsty, he waved it away, but then he saw the look of hurt on her face and he realized that he needed to talk with her. Not transactional mission-related communications, but talking—the way they’d been talking for weeks. Time was short—this he understood. He also understood, especially after witnessing what happened to Phillipa, that unforeseen risks lay before them. He thought of Thia, of the kindness she had shown him, despite the rage he’d unleashed at the keep. She had given freely of herself, had admonished him to mend his life, to stop the endless cycle of self-punishment and regret. He had piled enough regrets on his conscience; he didn’t want Prynn to be one of them.

As he tinkered with the sensors, he scooted closer to her. He didn’t need to see her to know that she consciously avoided having to look at him. “Prynn?”

“Hmmm?”

He started the tricorder’s reinitialization sequence: they had a few minutes before the instrument would be ready. “We have very little time and I’ve been wrong to avoid speaking with you before now. I’ve been unfair to you.”

“What do you mean, exactly?” she said, her voice low and quiet.

“I mean that I felt responsible”—he sighed—“for what happened at the festival. I was angry at my zhavey and those things I do in anger are rarely good. I ran away and took you with me and in the process I compromised your safety. You could have lost your life.”

“Damn straight,” she said.

He hadn’t expected that response. He searched himself, wondering what he had expected, but not that.

“You’ve been pretty clueless, period,” she said, matter-offactly. “I get that this is a difficult time in your life. More than difficult—impossibly bad. But I’ve been plenty supportive, and as far as I can tell, that doesn’t seem to matter to you.”

“What can I say? Without you…” His voice trailed off. “What can I say that will help you understand?”

She looked at him. “Why were you massaging Thia? What passed between you two?”

He blinked. She had seen him with Thia and had misunderstood. “Thia needed help. It’s what is done.”

“You were touching her in a very personal, very intimate way.”

Trying to read Prynn in the half-light was futile; Shar wondered what, if anything, he should or could say that would make a difference. He thought back to his brief time with Thia and had to admit that he felt confusion. Not because he had developed an emotional attachment to the zhen, but because he had so naturally adapted to the role. He couldn’t fathom how to explain this to her. Would she believe him if he tried? “Prynn, it was an obligation—what was needed.”

“Needed?” She held up her hands. “What do these look like? Phasers? Why couldn’t I have helped?”

“I’m chan. It’s the chan’s obligation to help—what is expected of a chan.”

“Since when does Thirishar ch’Thane adhere to the expectations of his culture?”

“I am part of the Whole whether I like it or not,” he said, more sharply than he intended to. How could he explain to her what he himself was just starting to understand? The intuitive connection he’d felt to something larger than he or Thia or even his own bondmates. Until tonight, he’d always thought of the “Whole” in the abstract. Now he wondered if indeed it was more than an idea. Shar continued, “When I helped Thia, I connected with a part of myself that I never believed I’d have a chance to. I could not abandon chan’s obligation to zhen. It wouldn’t be right.”

Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes, exhaling raggedly. “So what does that mean, Shar? I would do anything for you—you mean that much to me. But is there a place for me—for us—in the ‘Whole’?”

The tricorder beeped, signaling that the recalibration was complete.

“There will always be a place for you in my life,” he promised.

“I want to believe that,” she told him.

He could hardly blame her for her doubts; were he in her place, in this circumstance, he would feel similarly. They would work through this, because as much as he couldn’t escape his Andorian identity, he refused to let go of his feelings for Prynn.

“We need to go,” Prynn said, standing up and brushing the dirt, plant gum, and dried leaves from her expedition suit. “We’re only a few hours away from daylight.”

He couldn’t argue with her logic. “Ready your caving gear. We’ll make less noise if we’re already outfitted before we reach the tube.”

“Good thinking,” she said, and removed her night-vision lenses from her pack.

Shar found their plateau position on the tricorder; they pressed on.