I look down at the pitiful figures lying on makeshift beds in the shelter. The Vulcan scientists have evidently done what they could, and Samantha has added devices of her own, supporting them and monitoring their life signs... and it's pretty clear that this isn't enough. Two of them, especially, are lying very still, with grey waxen faces - if the monitors didn't say so, I wouldn't believe they were still alive.
Samantha follows my gaze. "Those two need urgent therapy, and possibly lung transplants. There's no way I can do that here. Even if I could set up a sterile operating area, another tremor would be disastrous. I know you can feel those coming -"
"Not far enough in advance," I say. "I'm sorry."
Samantha nods. She shifts her visor with one hand, and I can see where Vulcan blood has caked on her fingernails. Some of the injured have been bleeding freely - too freely. "Even a light tremor would stir up too much of this damned dust," she says. "I don't know what to suggest."
"We'll have to bring the Spirits of Earth down into the atmosphere," I say. "Land her, or just hover her over the camp. At that close range, we can be certain of getting a transporter lock. Or we can use standard shuttles to ferry the critical cases to sickbay."
"It's one hell of a risk," Samantha says. "Spirits of Earth may have wings, but she's a starship, not an atmosphere craft. Especially not this atmosphere."
"She flew atmospheric on Gimel Vessaris," I point out, "and that was with heavy battle damage, even. I think she'll do fine here." I rub my forehead. "The question, of course, is whether T'Nir and this Stiak will let us do it. In the meantime, let me get this set up, it might help." I turn my attention back to the force field generator, which should block the worst of the dust from the shelter. "Klerupiru's setting one up in the sleeping hut," I add.
Samantha is already absorbed in the readings from one of her patients, but she asks, "Why did you bring her along, anyway?"
"Klerupiru? She's a tech expert as well as a computer whiz."
Samantha shoots a glance at me. "That's not the only reason, is it?"
"No," I admit. "I wanted our High Admiral along so I could keep a close eye on her. And - well, I like Klerupiru, and I admire her abilities, and I would even, personally, trust her... but you have to admit, she's got finely honed criminal instincts. And I thought those might come in handy, for keeping that close eye on our Romulan friend." The force field emitter goes live with a hum and a click. If I've tuned it right, small high-density objects - like dust particles - will just bounce off the field. It'll make some difference to the quality of the air.
It is tested immediately, as the door of the shelter opens. A figure stands in the entrance, mummified in protective wrappings. "Director Stiak has returned." T'Nir's voice. "He requests an immediate conference with you and the High Admiral."
"All right. Let me just check -" The force field seems to be holding. Little motes of golden light are flickering around T'Nir, as it repels the drifting dust. "That's good, for the moment, at least. Samantha, sing out if you need any help. I'm on my way."
In the short time we've been here, the camp seems to have got worse; the light is dim, the dust-drifts thickening. As T'Nir leads me across to the next hut, I realise the simple explanation: night is falling. The only light, soon, will come from the reflected glow of the lava fields, over the horizon, but still entirely too near to us. In the dim troubled light, the encampment looks like some relic of a destroyed world, half-covered by the sands of time.
There are lights inside the domed hut we reach: Klerupiru has restored the camp's main power systems, at least. I step inside, and wait as T'Nir unwinds her outer garments. My uniform, at least, repels the worst of the dust... though I will need hours in the sonic shower to get my hair clean again. Beneath all the wrappings, T'Nir turns out to be a small, slender, Vulcan woman, almost fragile in appearance. There is certainly a brittle look to her fine-boned face... though that might just be down to the tension of the situation.
Two others are standing at a work table; Valikra is one, the other is a medium-tall, heavily built Vulcan male with a handsome, thoughtful-looking face. "Director Stiak?"
He nods. "Vice Admiral Shohl. I am glad to see you - on the whole."
"We're trying not to be a mixed blessing, sir. But your injured need treatment, and my doctor tells me she doesn't have the facilities for it here."
"Human inefficiency," says Valikra with a sniff.
"No," says Stiak, "no, I do not believe it can be that. The circumstances are difficult, I appreciate that. But the work had to continue."
My antennae twitch at that. "Had to?"
"Yes. I believe it is now complete - or, at least, complete enough that nothing is to be gained by remaining." He indicates the work table with a wave of his hand. "See for yourself."
There are rows of objects on the table, box-like things with rounded tops, about a dozen of them. There is some sort of writing on them. I frown. Valikra looks just as puzzled. "What are they?" she demands.
"Solid evidence of a nearly forgotten episode of history," says Stiak. "Data records of the Hegemony."
My frown deepens. "I never thought the Gorn Hegemony got anywhere near here," I say, "and that script looks like some sort of ancient Vulcan to me."
Stiak does the eyebrow-quirk thing. No Vulcan is ever too tired, too hurt or too demoralized to do the eyebrow-quirk thing. "Not the Gorn Hegemony, Vice Admiral. The Hegemony of Bresar."
"Well," I say, "I'm afraid that's a completely forgotten episode as far as I'm concerned."
"Bresar," says Valikra thoughtfully. "I have heard the name... I can recall no more."
Stiak nods. "Prior to the Time of Awakening on my planet, there were any number of warlords and faction leaders in conflict on Vulcan. It was a troubled time - as I'm sure you are aware. A little over two thousand years ago, though, there was a brief spell of peace and unity, when one leader became dominant over all the others. His name was Bresar... and surprisingly little is known of him beyond that."
"He is a semi-legendary figure," T'Nir chimes in, "like, perhaps, Napoleon or Alexander on Earth, or... I cannot think of an Andorian equivalent."
"Andorian history is pretty sketchy, sometimes," I say. "Maybe... one of the Thaba kings?"
"Perhaps," says Stiak. "In any case, most of what we do know about Bresar comes from the writings of his detractors. It was a warlike time, and his hegemony was not imposed without bloodshed - though, once established, I believe it to have been a time of peace. The histories tell us, though, that it was finally overthrown in a destructive rebellion, but Bresar himself declared that, since the Vulcan people did not welcome his rule, he would depart and try his luck elsewhere." He points to the table again. "We believe that this is where he tried it."
"This must have been pre-warp, though, even for Vulcan, surely?"
"Yes. The technology existed, though, for sublight flight at relativistic speeds. The journey from Vulcan to Chara is a matter of only a few decades, most of those being eliminated, even, by the time dilation effect. We think Bresar landed on this planet as a man in late middle age, no more than that. As for his subsequent history, his attempts to settle here, and why they came to nothing - well, we believe these records will tell us."
"I have reconstructed the data formats used in Hegemonic times," says T'Nir, "and will now be in a position to test my theories on these data storage units. It is best, perhaps, that I do so in a stable environment, such as that aboard your ship."
"Before the Time of Awakening," says Valikra. "Before Surak. That means that Bresar unified Vulcan... before the Sundering." Her eyes are alight with strong emotion.
"That is correct," says Stiak.
"We must talk more of this," says Valikra. "This has - potentialities. As a symbol, as a historical memory...."
My combadge chirps at me. "Shohl."
"Sir." Klerupiru's voice. "The IDRA supply drop has passed the tropopause. It should be making planetfall within the next five minutes. Do you want to be at the arrival point?"
"I'd better be," I say. I look at Stiak. "If you'll excuse me, Director, I think this supply drop needs my attention. Once we've got the capsule open and delivered the urgent necessities, we can talk some more about getting you and your discovery off this planet."
"Of course, Vice Admiral," says Stiak gravely. "Thank you for your patience and your efforts."
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