TO CATCH A BUTTERFLY

by

Shirley Buck

Prologue

The rain fell heavily, deluging the fields and soaking the trees and plants. Forked lightning danced along the mountain tops and the rumble of thunder sounded almost continuously. Then almost as suddenly as it had began the storm was over and the sun appeared from behind the clouds as the storm rumbled further down the valley.

The hot rays lay on the drenched land and steam began to rise as the rainwater evaporated into the atmosphere. Soon the villagers of Me-Tan began to leave their houses and make their way to the fields: there was much to be done at this time of year.

Me-Tan was situated in a small, fertile valley, surrounded on all sides by the high mountain ranges. The Kariang who inhabited the village had lived there for many years and knew no other way of life. Sometimes some of the younger folk would journey to other villages in nearby valleys; and occasionally visitors and travellers would visit Me-Tan, but for the most part the villagers of Me-Tan lived content and happy lives in their own valley.

Mandell and Zuhar with their two small daughters, Petara and Zahira, lived in a comparatively large house in the middle of Me-Tan. At the moment it was distinct from the other houses by the names of Petara and Zahira written large on the verandah wall in red dye and surrounded by a gaudy, child like pattern. The two girls had done it in a fit of naughtiness and had been well scolded for it by their parents. But Mandell and Zuhar had let the names stay, secretly proud that the girls could write their own names.

Now, as the storm departed down the valley the two girls were to go with their parents to work in the fields. The outer edges of the fields began at the outskirts of the village, but these were lying fallow and had to be crossed to reach the fields under intense cultivation. These were the fields where the women and children worked, weeding and transplanting the crops.

The men made their way towards the outer edges of the valley, where they were clearing the land for cultivation. Trees were being cut down and uprooted and the underbrush cleared away. Once they had finished, the whole area would be burned, ready to be hoed and planted. It was the Kariang way; the land was their life and their livelihood.

Zahira, who was five, worked contentedly enough alongside her older sister and her mother for well over an hour, then she grew tired and bored and was distracted by the butterflies which seemed to fill the valley at this time of the year. The butterflies were the most gorgeous colours imaginable and even the tiniest ones were like flowers which had flown off their stems. Zahira had always longed to have a butterfly of her own, never realising that butterflies could not be caught and held forever. So she spent the rest of the morning chasing them all over the fields, until at last she had become exhausted and fallen asleep in the shade of one of the trees.

Her mother had picked her up and taken her back to their home, placing her on a sleeping mat in the corner of the main room; leaving her there to finish her sleep. Zahira didn't wake until the rest of the family were having their afternoon rest. Unable to stay still, she crept out of the house in search of butterflies again.

She made her way to edge of the field and found a large cluster of butterflies hovering lazily over the wild flowers growing there. She watched them quietly for a while. They looked so easy to catch, hovering almost in the same position constantly. But Zahira sighed, knowing just how difficult it really was. She had tried to catch one from a group like this before; running towards them with arms outstretched didn't seem to work!

She picked some of the wild flowers and sat down on the grass with the flowers in her hand. She had infinite patience where the butterflies were concerned. Gradually a few of them flew over her head, just out of reach. Zahira waited, experience telling her they weren't near enough yet. A few more butterflies arrived until there were quite a few fluttering near her. Slowly Zahira reached out towards the butterflies...

Chapter One

The door swished shut and for a moment Kirk leaned heavily against it, exhaustion which he had been trying to hide for hours sweeping over him. It had been his first full day back on active duty and, determined not to let anyone know how he felt, Kirk had stayed on the Bridge for nearly an hour over his official duty time. It was not unusual for him to do so normally, but it had cost him a great deal today in pain and tiredness. The wound in his back ached badly and his whole body felt as if he had been beaten.

Slowly he pushed himself upright and walked across his cabin towards the sleeping area. He sat down and pulled off his boots, setting them down carefully at the side of the chair. He leaned back, unwilling to make any further effort. He knew he should have gone for something to eat or at least ordered something sent to his cabin; even now he could have dialled something up on the autoserve. He remained seated for a moment more, but at the thought that McCoy might come along and start fussing over him yet again, Kirk pulled himself to his feet. If McCoy did come, he was determined that the doctor wouldn't find his ex-patient asleep on the bed.

He undressed and showered, the hot water bringing a measure of relief to his aching body. Slowly he dried himself and, dressed in a clean uniform, he sat at his desk to look at some of the routine reports which had accumulated over the past few days. But Kirk's concentration was gone and he sat staring into space, deep in thought.

From the time of his own accident until the Enterprise had reached the Babel planet, Kirk had been forced to rest in his cabin. McCoy had been true to his word and released him from Sickbay after two days, but what he hadn't said at the time was that he wasn't going to allow Kirk back on duty for at least another ten days after that. So Kirk had spent most of those days in his cabin and had been glad to be there. He had developed an infection in his damaged lung and had put up with McCoy's orders and fussing without complaint. McCoy had been surprised and a little worried by Kirk's acquiescence, but was grateful for it too, as he had his hands full with Spock and Sarek.

The operation had been a complete success and Sarek had made a remarkable recovery. But somehow, both Spock and Sarek seemed to think they should be fully fit within a couple of days. But because McCoy had had to use a Rigellian chemical blood stimulant on Spock in order to give Sarek enough blood for him to be able to survive, McCoy had kept them both under strict observation in case there were any side effects. Both men found this irksome and they proved to be difficult patients, trying to insist they were both well. McCoy, however, was adamant and it was over a week before he was ready to let them leave the Sickbay. Spock returned to his duties almost straight away and it was only two days later that Sarek had left the Enterprise for the Corridan Conference. But during that week in Sickbay, father and son had had time together on their own; time to talk and time to bridge the gulf that had stretched between them for so long. McCoy knew that both needed that time and made sure they had the privacy required.

Kirk had seen very little of Spock during this time. And it was not until the Enterprise had left the ambassadors on the Babel planet and was en route to Starbase Twelve that Kirk saw Spock with any degree of regularity. Spock, always the perfect First Officer, had reported to Kirk morning and evening on the routine business necessary to the running of the ship. There was little else to report; and Spock rarely stayed more than the few minutes required to make the report. At first, Kirk had not even noticed, finding the effort to concentrate and comment difficult. But as his health improved and he was allowed back on restricted duties, he realised there was a barrier between them which not been there before. Something was troubling his Vulcan friend and at this moment in time Spock had no wish to talk about it to anyone. Before the happenings on the way to Corridan, the two men had spent many of their off duty hours together. Now this had stopped and Spock was often meditating, either in his cabin or in some remote corner of the ship. But Kirk wasn't worried, knowing that sometimes his Vulcan First Officer needed to be alone and most probably now, after all that had happened on the way to the Corridan Conference, Spock would have much to think about.

Kirk rubbed his hand across his face tiredly. He really ought to go to bed; he had another full day tomorrow and he wanted to be able to meet that day and its problems with his usual efficiency. He switched off the light at his desk; he knew he wouldn't deal with any of these reports to-night. As he did so there was a gentle knock on his cabin door. Kirk sighed. Then straightening his shoulders, he switched the light back on again.

"Come," he called and pressed the button to activate the door.

The door slid open and McCoy stood there, a slightly worried smile on his face.

"Hi, Bones. Come on in."

McCoy stepped into the cabin and the door slid shut behind him.

"Well, Jim, how're you feeling after your first full day on the Bridge?"

"Fine, Bones. Just fine."

"Don't lie to me, Jim. I'm your doctor, remember?"

Kirk gave a wry grin.

"Well, maybe a little tired."

"A little tired!" McCoy gave a snort. "I'd say a lot tired. So tired, in fact, that you don't feel like eating. And why did you stay nearly an hour over your official duty time? You know that wasn't necessary. There was no emergency that I heard about. You wouldn't let any of your crew do that on their first day back after a serious injury."

"It beats me how you find out all this information on my whereabouts," said Kirk with a grin. "What do you use? Flies on the wall?"

"It might surprise you to know that there are a lot of people on this ship who care about you and are concerned about your welfare. At a rough estimate I would say about four hundred and twenty nine of them. I don't need flies on the wall."

Kirk blushed slightly and the knowledge that his crew could read enough about him to worry about his health and welfare gave him a warm feeling.

"You haven't answered my question," continued McCoy, when it became obvious that Kirk wasn't going to reply. "What was the idea of staying an hour longer on the Bridge than was necessary?"

"Pride, I guess," said Kirk somewhat shamefaced. "I wanted to prove to everyone that the Captain was a hundred per cent fit."

"Well, forget the pride for a few days and use some common-sense for a change. Unless you want to find yourself back on restricted duties again."

"O.K. O.K. Don't fuss, Bones, I'm fine."

"In that case you can manage some food."

"I'm not hungry, Bones."

"Well, that's too bad, because I've got an ensign to bring along a supper tray for you. He should be here any minute. And I shall stay here until you have eaten it." There was a certain amount of satisfaction in McCoy's voice.

"Bones!" Kirk said in irritation. "I'm telling you..."

"And I'm telling you, Jim. If you don't eat, you go back on restricted duties."

There was a knock on Kirk's door and McCoy opened it and took the tray which the ensign had brought for the Captain. Kirk had to admit the food did look appetising. He sat down at his desk and McCoy placed the tray in front of him, sitting down himself on the opposite side of the desk.

"I see Scotty has manage to repair your command chair," commented McCoy, as he watched Kirk move the food around on his plate with a fork. Kirk looked up and smiled.

"Yeah, I guess he wasn't too pleased with me about that."

"Well, it took him the best part of a week to get the thing sorted out. The times you thumped that intercom button over the years must have weakened the whole system. And when you were dealing with the Orion attack, you must have really hammered it. Scotty said the whole console nearly came apart in his hands."

Kirk laughed and took a mouthful of food.

"At each meal we would have a blow by blow account of the problems he was having," continued McCoy. "At one time the only place on the ship he could get on the intercom was Uhura's cabin."

"He should have left it like that. I could think of worse places to be connected up to," said Kirk with a wide grin on his face.

"That's what Uhura said," replied McCoy. "But Scotty wasn't best pleased."

"I can imagine the language."

"Yeah. Chekov said he hadn't heard such a wide choice of colourful expressions in quite a while. Scotty must have taken the console apart five or six times before he got it working properly. And it didn't help that the rest of Bridge crew seemed to take it all as a joke. Scotty said he'd close the Bridge down completely and they would all have to run the ship from the auxiliary Bridge."

Kirk grinned as McCoy carried on with Scotty's tale of woe, but as he did so, he was slowly eating what was on his plate, just as McCoy had intended.

"To make matters even worse," said McCoy with a laugh, "just as Scotty had the whole chair in pieces on the floor, someone who shall remain nameless suggested that it might be a good time to install a commode. It would save them all a lot of time and trouble. Chekov said he thought Scotty was going to explode."

Kirk was really laughing now and McCoy was delighted to see that he finished everything on the plate. Now if Jim could get a good night's sleep, he could cope with tomorrow without so much pain as he had had today. McCoy stood up.

"Well, Jim. I think it's about time you turned in."

Kirk shook his head.

"You never stop being a doctor, do you, Bones?"

"Maybe not," McCoy said with a wry smile. "But I'm not taking any chances. Do you want anything to make you sleep?"

Kirk shook his head.

"You were right, Bones. I did need that meal and I feel a lot better for it. I shall sleep just fine tonight."

"Great." McCoy walked to the door, taking the tray with him. "Well, good night, Jim. You know where I am if you need me."

"Thanks, Bones. Good night."



Kirk woke early the next morning. His sleep had been deep and refreshing and he felt better than he had for over two weeks. He swung his legs off the bed and carefully stretched his arms over his head, testing the muscles of his back. The wound didn't hurt at all. Kirk grinned, feeling suddenly hungry. He put in a call for breakfast in his cabin and headed for the shower.

Ready for duty, but with half an hour before he was due on the Bridge, Kirk decided to visit one of his favourite places on the ship, known to the crew as the Enterprise Garden. It was as large as one of the rec rooms and filled with trees, flowers and plants of Earth. The gardener kept it strictly to the Earth year and at the moment Kirk knew it was late Spring in the garden. He also knew that at this time in the morning it would most likely be empty. Kirk paused at the door, drinking in the nostalgic smells of home. Obviously the gardener had arranged for an overnight shower, for the scent of damp earth and freshly watered plants came to him strongly. Slowly Kirk wandered along the pathways between the trees, listening to the early morning songs of the birds who inhabited the garden. Kirk felt the garden was one of the essential places on the Enterprise, contributing a large amount to the well-being of his crew. Trapped inside the hull of the ship for months, maybe years at a time, it was somewhere for a Human to recall what Earth was like and Kirk knew many of the crew came here frequently. Even non-Human crew members liked to visit the place.

Kirk thought again of what McCoy had said last night about the crew being concerned about his welfare. It had never occurred to him that all of the crew would be anxious for his swift recovery and would keep an eye on his movements. He took a deep breath. It felt good to be alive and Kirk knew he wanted nothing else in his life but to command his starship.

He glanced at his chronometer, realising he had just a few minutes before he was due on the Bridge. He quickened his pace and, taking one last look at the greenness surrounding him, he hurried to the Bridge.

Spock was already at the Science Station and nodded acknowledgement of Kirk's greeting to the Bridge crew. Kirk walked over to Spock.

"How are you this morning, Mr Spock?"

"Well, Captain. And yourself? I trust you had a good night."

"Very good, thank you, Mr Spock. In fact, I feel exceptionally well this morning." He paused to look round the Bridge and appreciate again how good it felt to be alive after his close brush with death.

"Anything come in while I've been off duty?"

"I would, of course, have informed you if there had been anything, Captain." Spock's tone was slightly indignant.

"Sorry, Spock." Kirk grinned at him. "It just seems very quiet. Perhaps we shouldn't push our luck eh?"

Spock merely raised an eyebrow at his Human friend.

"We are proceeding at warp three to Starbase Twelve, as directed, and should be there in three point two days."

"Thank you, Mr Spock." Kirk walked to his command chair and seated himself with a slight smile. He depressed the intercom button very carefully. "Kirk to Engineering."

The answer was immediate.

"Scott here, Captain."

"I was just testing the new intercom system you put into my command chair, Mr. Scott. It seems to be working well."

"Aye, Captain," responded Scott drily. "It seems to work better when it isn't constantly hammered."

Kirk grinned.

"Point taken, Mr Scott. I'll try and remember that. Kirk out."

It was half an hour later that the message came in from Starfleet. Uhura put in on audio.

"Captain Kirk? Commodore Wesley. Hi, Jim. Sorry to hear about the accident. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thanks, Bob. What have you got for us?"

"Well, it's not an emergency and will probably only take you a few days to make a detour and report back. We have had a request from the Governor General of Mercia, Mr Charles Evard. You may recall that it was originally one of our colony planets, settled about a hundred and fifty years ago. They are independent now, but are still members of the Federation, of course. Mr Evard is concerned about the state of his planet. The rains have failed for the last three years and the general climate of the place has altered somewhat. He requests aid to feed some of his people in need. I'd just like you to visit him, ascertain what it is he requires, what the problems are, what we can do to help. You know the sort of thing, Jim."

"Of course, Bob. We'll do what we can and report back to you."

"Thanks, Jim. Wesley out."

Kirk turned in his chair towards the Science Station, knowing that Spock would be computing the time, distance and ETA for Mercia.

"Mr Spock?"

"If we remain at warp three, we can reach Mercia in five point six days."

"Very well. It doesn't seem necessary to increase our speed unduly. Mr Chekov. Lay in a course for Mercia if you please."

"Aye, Captain." And Chekov fed the necessary co-ordinates into the helm computer. "Course laid in, sair."

"When you're ready, Mr Sulu."

"Heading confirmed and executed, Captain."

The mighty starship turned onto the new heading, making for the horror which awaited them on Mercia.



Two days out from Mercia, Kirk called a meeting to obtain the background information he needed for his visit to the planet. Not believing it would involve much time or any of his crew he only asked Spock, McCoy and historian Lieutenant Lee Cunningham.

As they sat around the table in Briefing Room Three, Kirk touched a button to call up a map of the main continent of Mercia.

"I believe this is the only inhabited part of the planet. Am I right?" asked Kirk.

"Indeed, Captain," Spock replied. "There is another, much smaller continent, but the soil is too poor to support any kind of life to make a successful colony. No humanoid life could live on the plants that grow on that continent. However, the larger land mass shown here is ideally suited to provide everything to make a colony self-supporting, which is exactly what Mercia has done."

Kirk looked across at Lieutenant Cunningham. She blushed slightly at his glance. Lee Cunningham had replaced Lieutenant McGivers when she had given up her position on the Enterprise to follow Khan into exile. Lieutenant Cunningham had been on the Enterprise less than a year and so far had had very little to do with the senior officers of the ship. She was greatly in awe of the Captain and wanted to prove to him that she was good at her job. But like a good percentage of the female Enterprise crew, she also found Captain Kirk immensely attractive. It was the combination of the two which had produced the blush.

"Y-yes, sir." Lee Cunningham took a deep breath. She knew all the facts, she just needed to present them in a coherent manner.

"Perhaps you would like to tell us what you know." Kirk's tone was understanding. Lt. Cunningham was young for the post she held on the Enterprise and she lacked confidence in presentation; but her knowledge was extensive and detailed. Kirk might not know her personally very well, but he always kept up to date with all the reports he received regularly on his staff.

"Mercia was discovered almost two hundred years ago," began Lt. Cunningham. She glanced apprehensively at Mr Spock. "One hundred and ninety six years ago to be precise."

Kirk hid a grin and glanced at McCoy. Laughter danced in the Doctor's blue eyes; but both men listened seriously to what Lee Cunningham had to say.

"But it wasn't until forty-two years later that the first Earth colonists arrived to make a home there. The first group were mainly white Caucasians from America and Europe. At that time the Earth was still heavily populated and people were encouraged to move out to a multitude of various planets to ease the problem.

"Mercia proved to be a most hospitable planet and many thousands followed in the next ten years. They settled the southern coastal strip at first, building several cities and establishing farms, fishing communities and mining areas. Mercia was able to provide the raw materials to make the colonists self-supporting in a short space of time.

"Gradually people moved out to the hinterland where they ran herds of cattle and sheep. In some ways it was similar to the development of the north American continent. The main difference was the central area of Mercia. It is mainly a desert area and this tended to limit the northern extent of their expansion."

"So the culture on Mercia is mainly a white, technological society," said Kirk thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir. That is, the southern part of the continent is."

"There was a further influx of people a few years later, was there mot?" asked Spock.

Lieutenant Cunningham glanced at him.

"Yes, that's true, Mr Spock. But they came for different reasons and under different circumstances.

"On Earth, where the boundaries of Thailand, Burma and Vietnam meet is an area known as the Golden Triangle. During the 20th Century there were many hill tribes living in the area – all independent, one from the other, all possessing their own distinct way of life. But the tribe we are interested in are the Kariang; they lived mainly in the remote hilly district of Northern Burma, scratching a living from poor soil. Their method of cultivation was slash and burn..."

"Slash and burn?" asked McCoy. "What does that mean?"

"It means, Doctor," replied Spock, "that the Kariang would clear an area of land – cutting down trees and clearing the underbrush. Then the area is fired, making the soil fit for planting of whatever crops they need. However, with the intense cultivation required, the soil is soon depleted, especially in this case, when the soil is poor in the first place. The tribe would be forced to move on." He paused for a moment. "Sooner or later there would be no land to move on to."

"Thanks for the geography lesson, Spock," McCoy said sarcastically. He looked at Lieutenant Cunningham. "Would you like to continue, my dear?"

"What Mr Spock says is basically what happened. Land began to run out. Depleted soil, overpopulation, limited land and increasing poverty; the tribe faced tribal death. Their plight was put to the Federation Council and it was decided to move them to Mercia."

"The desert sounds like an ideal spot!" interrupted McCoy.

"Hardly!" Lee gave a smile. "The northern area of Mercia is mainly a mountainous area very similar to where the Kariang lived on Earth. The Federation moved them there. It was estimated that two million people were uprooted and sent to Mercia."

"Quite an operation," observed Kirk dryly.

"Obviously it took several years and the Kariang adapted very well," responded Lt. Cunningham. "Their basic philosophy was typical of many minority people who have felt the pressure of having little or no political identity or power. They took the move with stoicism, believing their day had come. This was their chance to leave behind suffering and oppression and live harmoniously in their new environment."

"And has that proved to be the case?" questioned Kirk, "If so, then it would be one of the few to succeed."

"Actually, it proved difficult to find out," replied Lt Cunningham. "The Kariang virtually disappeared into the hills and are rarely seen. The Government in the south has little contact with them and it seems the two cultures live completely independently of each other."

"But the Governor-General and his Council are responsible for the Kariang, I believe," responded Kirk.

"Theoretically, yes. But as they have little or no contact with the tribe, that responsibility is mainly hypothetical."

"Hmmmmm." Kirk ran a finger over his upper lip thoughtfully. "Have you any idea what the problem is there now?"

"Not really, Captain," said Lee. "I have heard that the harvest has failed for the last three years and they have had very little rain. But that is mainly for the southern end of the continent. Whether this has affected the Kariang, I haven't been able to find out. News is very limited out of Mercia."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. That has proved to be most interesting." Kirk gave her a smile. "You've obviously done your homework."

"Thank you, sir." And Lt Cunningham blushed again, but this time there was a feeling of warmth. She had managed to provide the knowledge required of her and earned the praise of her Captain.

Kirk looked at Spock.

"And I believe, Mr Spock, we shall be dealing with the Governor-General."

"Yes, Captain. A Mr Charles Evard, I believe. He resides in Government House in the main city of Mercia, Oceanside. We should be there in two point three four days."

Kirk grinned.

"Thank you, Mr Spock. Your timing is precise, as usual." He glanced round at McCoy and Lieutenant Cunningham. "I think that will be all for the moment."

He rose from the table and headed for the door, but as he went he caught Lieutenant Cunningham's eye and gave her a broad wink, followed by one of his delightful smiles. For a few moments her legs went weak and she was unable to rise from her chair. Then she pulled herself together, gathered up her papers and rose to leave the now empty room.

Chapter Two

"Come." Charles Evard's tone was abrupt.

Edward Landers, his private secretary, sighed as he opened the door to Evard's study. Somehow it didn't seem like a good time to give the Governor-General further bad news, but the reports had just come in and contained information that Landers felt Evard should know before the visit from the Federation representatives.

Charles Evard sat at his desk in the study of Government House, looking at an inventory of available food stocks for his own household. They seemed appallingly low to Evard and it was a situation he was not happy with. So far the drought and famine had hardly touched his personal life at all. He paid little attention to all the reports and statistics he received from the various areas of Mercia under his control. But if the situation was so bad as to affect his own household it was just as well he had called the Federation in. Let them sort the mess out. He wished to be inconvenienced as little as possible.

"Well, what is it, Landers? Not more bad news I hope?"

"I'm afraid so, sir," said Landers, handing Evard the papers he had received over the teleprint a short while ago. "I've just received these from Ludnam and Ilston. Twenty–five people killed during a break-in at a food warehouse."

"Really!" Evard's tone was indignant. "The people in these industrial areas don't seem to have any idea of law or order. It's just as well the police have been firm about this. However, I don't think this is something we should mention to the Federation. Understood, Landers?"

"Yes, sir. However, I would point out that the looters weren't shot, but involved in an accident when heavy sacks of flour collapsed on top of them, while they were in the warehouse."

"How did they get in there in the first place? Where were the guards? The police?"

Landers sighed. Somehow Evard just didn't seem to want to understand the predicament of the people of Mercia.

"Well, sir," he replied quietly, "The guards helped the people to get into the warehouse. There was a rumour that food was being hoarded, forcing up the prices in the shops. As it turned out, the rumour was true. Unfortunately, in their anxiety to get the food out, the proper precautions weren't taken and whole stacks of stuff came crashing down."

Evard's face reddened in anger.

"The guards helped them? What is going on in these townships? Just because food is a little scarce, the populace seem to be taking the law into their own hands."

"The people are starving, sir. A lot of men have been laid off from the factories because they are cutting back on production – due to lack of water. So these men have little money. The price of food in the shops has sky-rocketed. They are getting desperate, sir. They are trying to keep their families fed."

"Don't be melodramatic, Landers," retorted Evard. "It seems to me that the whole thing has been blown up out of all proportion. We don't have these problems in Oceanside."

"With all due respect, sir, Oceanside, doesn't have a working class population. People here can afford to pay the higher prices. But it is only a matter of time now. We have had no rain in almost eighteen months. The water table is extremely low, the reservoirs even lower. Already they are using standpipes in both Ludnam and Ilston. I believe you will have to order standpipes in Oceanside in the not too distant future."

Evard laughed.

"God, Landers, what a prophet of doom you are. Things are not as bad as you seem to paint them. A piece of vandalism and you're running scared."

"Am I, sir?" replied Landers earnestly. "I think not. This looting is not an isolated case. It has happened thirteen times in the last two months. This is the first time people have died. Also..."

Evard looked at Landers in exasperation.

"More evil news, no doubt."

"I'm afraid so. This report has just come over the fax... It arrived within a few minutes of the previous one concerning the looting."

Evard heaved a deep sigh.

"Well, come on then, let's hear the rest of the gloomy tidings you seem to delight in giving me."

"I'm afraid there is an outbreak of typhoid in the Camston district of Ludnam."

"So what? It's just the heat. There are always a few cases during the hot weather."

"There are over fifty reported cases. And Camston is one of the poorer districts, where the standpipes were first introduced. There have also been two unconfirmed cases of cholera in the same area."

"Now see here, Landers. This has gone far enough." Evard spoke angrily. "Don't go talking about epidemics and looting as if the whole area is in ferment and trouble. Things like this happen from time to time. I want nothing said of this to the Federation, do you understand?" Evard's voice rose. "Nothing!"

"But sir..." Landers tone was desperate. "You can't hide the facts. These people have to be helped."

"Hide the facts? What facts? A few people killed in a warehouse accident. A few people ill because of the hot weather." Evard laughed without amusement. "Hardly facts the Federation would be interested in. All we need from them is extra supplies to tide us over to the next harvest."

"If there is a next harvest." Landers voice was quiet.

"Keep your depressing thoughts to yourself, Landers. I want nothing of that kind of thing getting twisted around in the telling to the Federation. What kind of fool would they take me for if I couldn't handle a little drought?"

"I believe it's gone beyond anything we can handle. Something has happened to the climate. We've never had such a long period without rain. I believe..."

"I believe. I believe..." Evard mocked. "Keep your damned beliefs to yourself. If I hear you blabbing your mouth to the Federation, you'll find yourself out of a job and with a reputation that will ensure you never get another."

Edward Landers took a breath. The last thing he wanted was to get on the wrong side of Charles Evard. It had taken many years and a lot of pushing for Landers to get where he was now. He enjoyed the wealth and prestige that went with the position he held as the Governor-General's personal secretary. And besides, perhaps the Federation would soon sort the matter out. Now was not the time to take a stand in opposition to Evard. He valued his present life style too much to put it in jeopardy at the moment. But deep down, Landers had a gut feeling that things were a lot worse than even he knew. He pushed the thought resolutely away.

"I understand, Mr Evard." Landers spoke quietly, knowing he was side stepping the whole problem. He pushed the thought resolutely away for the sake of his own skin.

"Good. Good." Evard's tone was genial. "It will all be sorted out before we know it. The Federation are used to dealing with all kinds of problems. That's what they're there for."

"There is one other thing, sir."

"Yes, Landers?"

"It's Camp Meo-Sun. I have the video..."

"God damn you to hell, Landers." Evard snatched the video out of Landers' hand. "Get out of here. I want no-one to hear anything about Camp Meo-Sun. And I have never had a video about it. Now, get out!" His voice was almost a snarl and he thrust the video tape to the back of a drawer in his desk.

Landers left the room hastily. Somehow he felt unclean.



Kirk, Spock and McCoy beamed down to Mercia and materialised on the steps of Government House. They were expected and a security guard greeted them, before ushering them through the portals and along the corridor to Edward Landers' office.

Government House was a large, comfortable and luxurious mansion set on a bluff overlooking the sea. It was used as the home of the Governor-General as well as the place were he entertained both officially and socially and this was reflected in the sumptuous decor throughout the mansion. The men from the Enterprise were impressed with the good taste and elegance which surrounded them on every side as they followed the guard along the corridors.

"I sure wouldn't mind spending a few days here," remarked McCoy as he glanced into the various rooms they passed. "I reckon I could get used to a little luxury on this scale very easily."

Kirk grinned.

"It is extremely elegant, Bones," agreed Kirk. "But somehow it doesn't have the atmosphere of a home."

"This Mr Evard isn't married, is he?" enquired McCoy.

"I don't believe so."

"Maybe that accounts for it. It needs a woman's touch! And a few kids rushing around the place in kiddicars."

"Maybe you're right, Bones," laughed Kirk

The guard stopped before a white painted door and knocked quietly upon it. A voice asking them to come in was heard and the guard opened the door, allowing the three men to pass inside, before closing it behind them.

Edward Landers came forward to greet them.

"How do you do, gentlemen. Welcome to Mercia." Landers smiled at them. "Mr Evard won't keep you a moment. I'm his personal secretary, Edward Landers."

Kirk shook his hand.

"I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise and at this time representing the United Federation of Planets. This is my First Officer, Mr Spock, and my Chief Medical Officer, Dr. McCoy."

Landers nodded at Spock and McCoy. "I'm glad you're here. We do need your help quite badly."

"Anything we can do to help, we'll do. A starship has a great many resources at its disposal. And if we can't help, we can convey your needs to the Federation." Kirk glanced around at the office, furnished and decorated in keeping with the rest of Government House. "I must say you seem adequately provided for here."

Landers joined Kirk in a small laugh.

"As you'll appreciate, Captain, it is not for ourselves we are asking help, but for many of our people who are in need. Mr Evard will explain the situation to you, I'm sure."

At that moment the connecting door to Evard's study opened and Evard himself came through, smiling genially.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," he exclaimed. "What a pleasure to see you here. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Come in, come in, do." And he ushered the three men into his study.

Kirk made the introductions and Evard seated them in armchairs round a low circular table. Landers hovered near for a moment, pouring drinks until Evard gestured him away, taking over the serving of the drinks himself.

"Well, Mr Evard," said Kirk, once they had all had drinks. "Perhaps you can tell us about your troubles and how we can help you."

"Yes, indeed, Captain," replied Evard with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "The situation is mainly under control. The weather generally over the past two years has been hotter and drier than normal, resulting in much poorer harvests than we're used to."

"We heard the harvest had failed for the last three years," interrupted McCoy.

"Failed is a strong word, Doctor. I wouldn't say failed." Evard's voice was calm and confident. "The outlying farms and ranches have found it difficult to feed themselves from their crops; and this, of course has curtailed supplies to the cities somewhat. As far as the cities are concerned we have managed to stockpile quite considerable amounts of non-perishable foods. For the farmers and ranchers it is a little different. We have set up two camps, southeast of Oceanside. The people there are fed and housed in tents – the best we can do in the circumstances. It's not an ideal arrangement of course. And it is mainly for them that I require help. Each camp holds about fifteen hundred people and as you can imagine, a great deal of food is required. And food is in short supply."

"How do they manage for water?" queried McCoy.

"We have dug several wells around each camp, tapping the water table. Again not an ideal arrangement, but everything is under control."

"I'd like to visit the camps, if I may," said McCoy. "When you have so many people under these conditions, the health of the individual is very important."

"Absolutely," responded Evard. "I have two doctors and two nurses on each site and they report to me each week. So far, everything has been fine. But of course, Doctor McCoy, you are at liberty to visit them whenever you wish."

"Thank you." McCoy turned to Kirk who was regarding him with an understanding smile. "Just a doctor's curiosity, Jim. I'd like to check for myself."

"Of course, Bones. I quite understand." Kirk turned back to Evard. "So you require food for these camps – total about three thousand people?"

"That's right, Captain."

"What about planting for the next harvest? You'll need seed for that. Will these people return to their farms at planting time?"

"Oh, definitely, I should say, Captain," replied Evard easily. "It's only a question of irrigation."

"If I may ask, Mr Evard." It was the first time Spock had spoken. "If, as you say, it is only a question of irrigation, why were those people unable to make use of it in the previous harvests? It seems somewhat strange that these people should leave their homes to live in tents in a camp, when all they had to do is to dig some irrigation ditches."

"The rains will make the difference, Mr Spock," replied Evard a little shortly, Kirk thought. "Once the rains arrive, the people will return to their farms. In no time at all, Mercia will be back to normal."

"And are you sure the rains will arrive in time for the harvest?" asked Spock, raising an eyebrow.

"I am quite confident, Mr Spock. We just need the Federation's help to tide us over a difficult period." Evard's tone was convincing, but somehow Kirk had the strange feeling that everything wasn't quite as Evard had painted it. Somehow Evard seemed too glib, too full of ready answers. If things were as under control as Evard said, Kirk wondered why he had called in the help of the Federation at all.

"What about food and water supplies in the cities?" questioned Kirk.

"All taken care of, replied Evard. "We've no problems there. Food is a little higher in price, naturally. That's only to be expected. But again once the rains come, the problems will resolve themselves."

"What makes you so sure the rains will arrive this year?" asked Kirk.

Evard chuckled.

"Law of averages, Captain. We've had years before with no rain, but they always return. I've no doubts in my mind at all."

"I'm glad you're so confident," said Kirk drily. "What about the Kariang?"

The suddenness of the question took Evard by surprise and a look which Kirk couldn't quite interpret came over the Governor-General's face.

"The Kariang, Captain?" It was almost as if he was trying to marshal his thoughts.

"Yes. The Kariang. The Hill People who live to the far north of the continent."

"I know who the Kariang are, Captain," said Evard a trifle testily. "I was just wondering why you should ask about them."

"Well, they are your responsibility. And if your outlying ranches are in difficulty, it is reasonable to suppose that the Kariang are affected by the drought too."

"One would suppose so," replied Evard. "But in all honesty the Kariang are independent people. They wouldn't ask for help even if they need it. And in any case, the hills are said to be unaffected; the climate is different in the north. I don't think you need concern yourself about the Kariang. They are quite capable of looking after themselves."

"I see." Kirk was silent for a moment. "Well, Mr Evard, as I see it, you need bulk food for the camps; seed for planting, just a little to help carry you over the next few months. That certainly doesn't seem an unreasonable request."

"I feel I have perhaps called on the Federation for a small matter, but I don't like to see my people suffer."

"Of course not," responded Kirk. "I will however have to make a full report to the Federation. Of course, there'll be no doubt about the supplies; they'll be on their way within a day or so. But I will remain in orbit for a short while. We'll scan the planet in depth, see if we can find out what's caused the change in climate."

"Really, Captain, I don't feel that's necessary. As I told you before, we have had times of heat and drought before. It will pass."

Kirk smiled.

"It's all part of the service, Mr Evard. We will do all we can to ensure that your problems don't get any worse."

He rose from his chair and shook hands with Evard, giving him no time for further protests.

"We'll get back to the ship immediately and contact the Federation Council. Doctor McCoy, here, will no doubt arrange with your secretary for his visit to the camps. We'll be in contact with you before we leave."

"Thank you for your help, Captain. It has been a pleasure meeting you."

Evard rang for Landers and the three men from the Enterprise said their good-byes to Charles Evard. AS the door closed behind them Evard brought his fist down hard on the back of one of the armchairs.

"God damn it to hell!" he muttered in a low voice. "Why did I ever let myself be persuaded to call the Federation. Those men are going to stir up a hornet's nest."

Evard walked across to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a stiff whiskey. He was going to find himself in a lot of trouble very soon, unless he had underestimated the capabilities of the starship now orbiting his planet. When Evard had first called the Federation he had expected the usual deputation of two or possibly three ambassadors; men very much like himself. Men whom he could easily manipulate into providing what he wanted without too many questions asked. He had never expected a starship to arrive and one that was captained by a man of integrity, who would leave no stone unturned to provide all the help he could as he saw it. He was not the sort of man who would take another's word for what was happening. He would have to see for himself

As long as he doesn't find out about Camp Meo-Sun thought Evard.

With a glass of whiskey in his hand he walked across to this desk and took out the video tape he had pushed into the drawer earlier that day. He inserted it into the player and pressed the play button. Then he sat down to watch the film which had been taken a few days ago at Camp Meo-Sun. There was an expression of gloom and anger on his face.

Chapter Three

Over the next couple of days, Spock scanned the planet in depth; and Uhura monitored all the news broadcasts put by the media in Mercia. And some very disturbing things had come to light.

Mercia had always been a colony which had been more or less self-sufficient. The huge areas of fertile land which stretched two thousand miles from the coast to the beginning of the central desert had provided all the meat, vegetables, grains and fruits that Mercia needed; fish of all kinds were readily available all along the southern coastline. Minerals and precious metals had been found in the western area and large industrial townships had grown up to serve the mines and quarries which produced a seemingly never-ending supply of raw materials. Steel plants and factories manufacturing a wide range of goods for the consumer market were also located conveniently in the industrial areas of Mercia.

Oceanside, built specifically to house the government and commercial area, was the capital and financial centre of Mercia. For almost a hundred and fifty years the economy had remained stable and the quality of life for the majority of the Southern continent settlers had been good.

But three years ago, the climate had changed quite dramatically, causing the general temperature throughout the land to rise and very little rain to fall. It wasn't long before the whole of Mercia began to feel the effects.

Whilst scanning the planet, Spock had inadvertently discovered the cause of the climate change. For no reason he could ascertain the axis of the plane had shifted by several degrees and the continent was now beginning to turn into a desert-like climate. Added to which the rainy season had failed completely. In some places it had been three years since any rain had fallen at all. Drought and famine and its accompanying horrors began to sweep the land.

The situation was now a lot worse than Charles Evard had realised. The reservoirs serving the major cities were at a critical level and the water table level was low and getting lower all the time. With no rain in the south for over eighteen months and, Spock felt, very little chance of any rain in the foreseeable future, it would not be long before Mercia became uninhabitable.

The first to suffer had been the more isolated farms and ranches. Wells, pools and small rivers which had provided water for both people and animals had dried up quickly in the new dry summer, which seemed to last far longer than it should. The plants withered and died; the earth dried and hardened, cracking with the lack of water. Cattle, sheep and pigs died in vast numbers because the ranch owners were unable to provide sufficient fodder and water for them. The people dug their wells deeper, tapping the water table as it dropped, but the situation worsened.

Their homes could not support them and water was scarce. Two camps had been set up to house the people who had to leave their homes, providing them with the basic necessities for life. Their way of life had been ripped apart and most people found it difficult to continue any sort of normal life in the camps which the Government of Mercia had provided.

In the cities, things were different, but no less critical. The mines, quarries, factories and industrial plants all needed vast quantities of water to maintain their high level of production. And it was well over six months ago that all the industries had started to cut back on production, reducing hours and laying men off, so that water could be husbanded. Promises had been made that the cutbacks would not be for long; as soon as the rains came, normal working would be resumed. But the expected rains never arrived. Now, the men were working even shorter hours and some places had closed altogether. Should the rains ever arrive, it would be years in many places before they could return to the levels of production they had once had. Maintenance had not been carried out in the drive to save water, and material and equipment were rotting where they stood.

It was only in the last few months that the effects of the drought in the farmlands had begun to be felt in the more industrial areas. The people in the cities had been living on stockpiled food; now that had run out and people were hungry. The rioting and looting which Landers had reported to Evard had been the tip of the iceberg. Many instances of looting were never reported as the police and guards joined in, trying to keep their families fed. The situation could only get worse. Cases of typhoid, typhus and cholera had all been reported in the more industrial areas and contaminated water had obviously been the cause.

Kirk and Spock had been somewhat stunned when they realised the extent of the problem. They were unable to understand why Evard had not called in the Federation before. If they had known a year ago, most of the deprivation and suffering which the people were enduring could have been alleviated.



Kirk could feel the sweat trickling down his back and chest. He wiped his hand across his forehead to try and stop the sweat running into his eyes. He looked across at Spock, who sat opposite him, seemingly cool. It was understandable that Spock could always stand a much hotter temperature than Kirk, but still Kirk found it vaguely irritating. He grinned across at Spock.

"Hot enough for you, Spock?"

"Adequate, thank you, Captain. I must admit I would prefer to have the temperature a trifle higher, but I believe you would find it rather uncomfortable."

"I find this temperature uncomfortable, Spock. I shall look forward to the cold shower in a few minutes."

Spock gave a slight shudder.

"A sauna stimulates the circulation, makes you feel good. A cold shower and a rub down afterwards and I feel terrific. It's the right reason to take a sauna, Spock. It's not meant as a place to sit and think about Vulcan."

Spock lifted an eyebrow.

"You sound like McCoy," said Spock, who only had saunas when Kirk had badgered him into having one. "I prefer not to take a cold shower and I really fail to see why you Humans put up with so much discomfort just to cleanse your skin. There must be easier ways of doing it."

Kirk grinned again.

"It helps your whole body, as you well know, Spock." He spoke affectionately, knowing that Spock was only humouring him by coming here in the first place. "Besides, a little suffering is good for the soul, as Bones would say."

"During the time I have known you, Jim, you have had a great deal of suffering of one kind or another; enough, I would have thought, to last a lifetime. It has only been three weeks since you were in the Sickbay and Doctor McCoy feared for your life."

Kirk grimaced.

"Bones was always one to worry too much. I was never in any danger. Anyway, you're just trying to change the subject. What about that cold shower now, Spock?"

"Thank you, Jim, but no." Spock's tone was firm.

"O.K." Kirk gave a laugh. "But I think I'll have one to cool down and then come in for a little more punishment. Will you be staying here?"

"For the moment."

Kirk walked out of the sauna, closing the door behind him. He removed the small waist towel he wore and stepped under the shower. The cold water streamed down his body and he gasped audibly.

Perhaps Spock was right thought Kirk. Doing this is slightly masochistic.

He stepped out of the shower shaking the water from his eyes; he picked up his towel and returned to the sauna. Spock regarded him in some amusement.

"I trust you feel better, Jim?"

"Well, cooler anyway." He put his towel on the wooden slats and sat down on it, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"I'm not happy about Charles Evard, Spock," he announced. "I had a feeling at the time that he wasn't telling us everything. The thing that puzzles me is why he called us in, in the first place."

"I think Edward Landers had a lot to do with it," responded Spock.

"Landers wasn't giving anything away either! The whole damn thing's a puzzle. Did Evard really think we wouldn't find out the true situation in Mercia?"

"I believe that is exactly what Evard did think. I believe he was expecting someone like Ambassador Baris. Someone who would be only too ready to acquiesce to whatever he wanted without too many questions being asked. The thing he hadn't expected was the arrival of a starship and a very curious captain."

"I'm not sure if I have been insulted, Spock," said Kirk with a laugh.

"I assure you, Jim, it was not meant as an insult," replied Spock earnestly.

"I know, Spock. Just a little joke." He paused, deep in thought for a moment. "There is certainly a lot of things he didn't tell us. The main problem as I see it is to find some way of getting the planet back on its proper axis. Unless we can do that, there'll be no future on Mercia."

"Indeed, Jim," replied Spock. "But moving a planet is something I do not believe is within the capabilities of even a starship such as the Enterprise. I will give the matter my closest attention, however. There might be something of relevance which I have overlooked."

"That doesn't seem likely, Spock," said Kirk with a grin.

"I am glad that you have such faith in my abilities, Captain," said Spock, formally, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"But of course, Spock," said Kirk, smiling. "Let's hope you come up with something, otherwise the Federation is going to be faced with evacuation on an unprecedented scale. Our main concern for the immediate future is to provide food for the cities and the two camps. I have already contacted the Federation and container ships will on their way in a very short time. They estimate the first consignment should be here within two weeks."

Spock nodded slowly. The Federation certainly weren't wasting any time, which was just as well. He looked across at Kirk, who had now been in the sauna for nearly half an hour. His friend looked uncomfortably hot and the perspiration was trickling down his bare chest. It always came as something of a surprise to see how much cooler the temperature was that a Human could comfortably stand, compared to a Vulcan. However, Spock deemed it wiser to say nothing of the sauna temperature knowing that Kirk would soon have to leave anyway.

"We shall need a detailed report of the two camps," said Spock. "Evard provided us with little detail of either of them."

"McCoy will be able to give us that when he returns from his tour tomorrow," replied Kirk. He stood up, rubbing sweat from his face and bent to pick up his towel. As Spock had guessed, Kirk had had enough.

"I don't know about you, but this sauna seems to have got hotter than ever in the last few minutes. I'll shower and rest for half an hour. Are you staying?"

"I believe I will stay a little longer. The temperature for me is most comfortable."

"It's that Vulcan background of yours, Spock. No wonder saunas were never invented on Vulcan; the temperature is such that they were never needed!"

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"And I bet you'll up the temperature once I've gone," Kirk added with a grin.

"That, Jim, is entirely possible."



An hour or so later, Kirk and Spock sat in the Officers' Mess, drinking fruit juice and continuing their talk from the sauna.

"What are you anticipating that Doctor McCoy will find at the camps?" queried Spock.

"Nothing that will help in finding an answer as to why Evard didn't call us in before. Or if he's hiding anything from us. If there was anything incriminating at the camps, you can bet Evard would never have mentioned the camps, let alone allow Bones to visit them."

"What do you think he is hiding?" asked Spock.

"I don't know," replied Kirk, slowly. "I just have this yellow alert going at the back of my neck. Perhaps it's just that he hasn't been completely honest with us and I don't like people who try to use me, my ship or the Federation for their own purposes." He tightened his lips. "But I'm not leaving until I've got to the bottom of it all."

"I will continue my in-depth scanning of the planet, Captain. I've concentrated mainly on the southern half of the continent so far, but I need to collect data on the northern half as well."

"Yes, do that, Spock. I want as much detail as you can get."

Kirk took a sip of his iced fruit juice and replaced his glass on the table. He glanced around the room to find that he and Spock were the only people there. He leaned forward, taking advantage of the empty room.

"Spock?" he paused, uncertain of how to continue.

Spock raised his eyebrow at the hesitancy in Kirk's voice, wondering what could have caused it.

"Spock. I just wondered how you felt generally?"

"Captain?" Spock's voice was puzzled.

"I mean, have you had any after effects from the operation Bones performed on you and your father?"

Spock's face took on a guarded look.

"I have felt a little tired on occasion, but other than that, I am perfectly well, thank you."

"I guess Bones is keeping a close eye on you in case of side effects."

"Doctor McCoy has given innumerable tests and finally came to the conclusion I had come to at least two weeks ago. There have been no side effects. I fail to see why everyone seems so concerned about so straight-forward a matter."

"Because, Spock, we all care about you. And I have had this feeling lately that something has been bothering you. Is everything O.K. between you and your father, now?"

"Thank you, Captain. We have discussed our differences and I believe we have more understanding of each other now. " Spock's tone was polite, but Kirk got the distinct impression that Spock felt he had overstepped the mark.

"I'm sorry, Spock. I didn't mean to pry. But if you ever feel like talking about things to anyone, well, I am your friend you know, as well as your commanding officer."

Spock's expression softened slightly.

"I will bear that in mind, Captain," was all he said.



It was late the following afternoon when McCoy returned to the ship. Kirk invited both the doctor and Spock to his cabin to discuss the situation and to hear McCoy's report on the camps.

"Well, Jim, the situation isn't wonderful," began McCoy, when they had settled around Kirk's desk. "The people aren't particularly happy but I can't really say that there is an awful lot more that Evard can do.

"There are about two thousand people at each camp. Each family or group of workers or friends have a tent each; no more than five to a tent. They have a hospital tent and a large tent where they serve the food. Proper cleanliness is maintained everywhere. The latrines are adequate and although not that convenient for everyone, they all seem to realise the necessity for the measures taken. There doesn't seem to be any risk of contamination or infection from any of the latrines.

"Water is brought round in large containers on trucks twice a day and everyone gets two pints a day. Not a lot by any standards, but adequate. They also have a washing tent and everyone can use that every two days on a strict rota." He grimaced. "Quite honestly, Jim, it's not ideal by any means, but the people are surviving and they're reasonably healthy. It's all just as Evard said."

"I never thought it would be anything else." Kirk drummed his fingers on the desk. "So what is he trying to hide?"

"Captain, I believe I might have found something while I was scanning the northern half of the continent."

Kirk turned to Spock expectantly. "Yes, Spock. Go ahead."

"I was able to pick up the location of both camps quite easily. Both are situated in an area where the water table is comparatively high. Their wells should not run dry for quite a while. However, I believe I have located another camp."

Spock moved to the computer console and called up a map of Mercia.

"Here," Spock pointed to the northern area of the continent, "are the mountain ranges which stretch for almost a thousand miles from the sea in the north until they finally level out towards the central plains. The whole area is full of valleys and areas of cultivation where the various tribes of the Kariang have lived since they arrived in Mercia.

"Here," and Spock indicated an area to the south western edge of the mountain range, "is the largest river on the whole of the Mercian continent. It flows out of the mountains and across the plains towards the sea. On the way it feeds into a large lake, called, I believe, Meo-Sun. It is the only lake of any size on Mercia.

"On the south-eastern edge of the lake, where the river enters the lake is another camp, but it is infinitely larger than the other two. The river, however, has dwindled to a mere trickle and Lake Meo-Sun is more mud than water in many places. The camp there will find itself short of water very soon, without doubt."

"This could well be a camp serving the Hill people, the Kariang," said Kirk in a low voice.

"Quite logical," agreed Spock. "The situation of the camp would suggest the Kariang followed the river from the mountains until it reached the lake. And then finding a reasonable supply of water decided to stay."

There was silence for a moment.

"So despite what Evard says, the Kariang have been affected," said Kirk.

"So it would seem. The scans indicate almost totally infertile areas in most of the habitable valleys. I would say that the hill areas are not able to support the Kariang any more."

"My god," exclaimed McCoy. "They must be dying like flies up there. Evard must have known about this."

"Yes, he must have known," said Kirk, his voice grim. "The first thing we do is visit this third camp and find out whether what we believe is in fact true."

"There is just one other thing, Captain. Nothing of any importance, but an interesting anomaly."

Kirk swung to look at Spock. He was always ready to listen to any anomalies which Spock found interesting.

"It's here. Just a few miles east of this camp. A minute surge of energy barely seen. It happened once for two point three seconds. And although I scanned the area continuously it has not occurred again."

Kirk stared at the map.

"As you say, Spock, interesting. Keep an eye on it and let me know if it happens again."

"Yes, Captain," replied Spock. "When do you wish to beam down to the planet's surface?"

Kirk consulted the chronometer.

"It will be almost dark down there now." He rubbed a finger along his lips, thoughtfully. "We'll go at first light tomorrow. You, Spock, and Bones and two security guards. Give the co-ordinates to Scotty and make sure everything is ready for six a.m. tomorrow morning."

Spock had found Camp Meo-Sun.

Chapter Four

The village of Me-Tan lay quiet in the burning heat of the afternoon, but this was no longer a village at peace. The drought which had hit the plains of the south had been even more severe in the hills of the north. During a normal rainy season many inches of rain would fall, swelling streams and rivers, making the land fertile. But with the failure of the rains the streams had dwindled to a mere trickle and in many cases had dried up completely. The Kariang had dug irrigation channels, trying to bring the much needed water to the crops, but the channels too had dried up. The crops began to die and the earth to harden and crack.

Now after three years of drought the moment the villagers of Me-Tan had dreaded was fast approaching. Unless the rains came soon they must leave their village and journey south in search of a place where they would survive. Many of the villagers were sick now and all were suffering from malnutrition. Tonight they were to try and placate their god by holding a special ritual, asking the Lord of the Land and Water to come to their aid, so they would not have to leave the village.

It had been many months ago that a small band of Kariang had entered Me-Tan. They were from a small village in the hills a few miles away. They told the villagers that they were on their way to find the Great River; there was no more water or food to be had in their village. If they had stayed, all would have died. The Great River would provide all the water they needed and along its banks they would find a place to build a new village.

Now the villagers of Me-Tan were to make the decision of whether to try and find the Great River too.

In the house of Zuhar and Mandell, all the necessary cleansing rites were being performed as best they could with the severe lack of water. During the morning Mandell, helped by her two daughters, Petara and Zahira, had unpacked the large wicker basket which contained their best clothes and ornaments. The clothes had been spread out carefully in the sun, while the ornaments had been cleaned to make sure all was spotless. Now as the sun began its fall towards the horizon, the clothes were gathered up and folded into neat piles, ready to be donned by each member of the family after they had cleansed themselves. All should be as near perfect as possible for the rites to be performed that evening.

A small bowl of water stood on the mat in the centre of the room; four small pieces of cloth lay beside it. Zuhar, Petara and Zahira sat on the verandah looking out towards the dry and dusty fields. Mandell, meanwhile had divested herself of all the clothes she had been wearing for many days, and dipping one piece of cloth into the bowl of water she carefully squeezed the water back into the bowl, taking care not to let a precious drop spill. With the damp cloth she wiped the whole of her body; she then rubbed the cloth over her hair, trying to remove as much dust and dirt as possible. She then dressed herself in the clothes placed ready for her. The tie-dye pattern of the sarong in green and yellow was Mandell's own design and she tied it around her waist, fixing it with a deep green belt and allowing the sarong to hang in folds to her ankles, in keeping with the formal nature of the rites. She then put on her indigo-dyed blouse, embroidered with a complicated pattern around the hem. It had been many weeks since Mandell had last worn them and she realized how much weight she had lost in that time. Her strength, too, had failed she knew, but she tried to push the knowledge to the back of her mind. Surely the Lord of Land and Water would be placated tonight; and rain would come soon.

Slowly she bent to pick up the flat copper bracelets she like to wear; they made a pleasant jingling sound as she slipped ten of them on each arm. She tried to ignore the thinness of her arms, but as she lifted her most prized possession, a silver necklace, up over her head she could see the wasted flesh only too clearly. Mandell sighed and slowly fingered her "rice grain" necklace made of delicate, hollow, elongated silver beads. She looked at her husband and two daughters sitting quietly on the verandah and saw them as they really were. They were all emaciated and suffering from malnutrition. Zahira, particularly, was the one who seemed to have suffered the most. She had not developed as a normal young girl should. Now almost ten, she should be reaching maturity, and mentally she was; but her body, starved of the necessities for bone and muscle development, still had the stature of a five year old. But Zahira hadn't been that thin at five. If Mandell had had any more tears to shed, she would have wept at that moment. But the last years had taken their toll of her and she could only shake her head in sadness and carry on with life as best she could.

Mandell went to kneel beside her husband and bowed her head. He glanced at her and smiled.

"You look well, Mandell," he said. "The Lord of Land and Water will be pleased."

Mandell smiled back at him.

"I am glad, my husband." She indicated the bowl and pile of clothes. "Everything is ready for your cleansing, Zuhar."

Zuhar rose and walked to the mat placed in the centre of the only room in the house. Like Mandell, he cleaned himself with one of the cloths dipped in the water and squeezed out. He donned a pair of black, calf-length cotton trousers and a red and white striped shirt with a deep fringe at the bottom.

In turn Petara and Zahira cleaned themselves also and both donned the traditional white shifts worn by young girls. Petara had helped her mother make both shifts and Zahira had helped weave the deep red pattern into the lower half of each shift. The patterns were distinctive and different and both girls felt a sense of pride as they put them on. Surely the Lord of Land and Water would be pleased to grant them rain.



As darkness fell on the village of Me-Tan, the priest began to walk slowly between the houses, stopping at each to allow the family living there to join the procession. Each family brought with them some precious article to lay before the shrine of the Lord of Land and Water; a piece of jewellery, an embroidered cloth, some food wrapped in leaves. The articles brought were varied, but represented a sacrifice on the part of each family. By bringing such articles to the shrine, they hoped that the Lord would grant them rain and the continuance of their family life in Me-Tan.

Some of the people carried burning torches to light the way across the dry and dusty fields to the shrine of the Lord situated at the extreme edge of the cultivated lands. The shrine was almost as old as the village itself and had originally been surrounded on all sides by trees. Now the fields had encroached to within a few yards of it and the shrine had just a line of trees marking its perimeter. It was about thirty feet across and in the centre was a low circular indentation in the bare earth, which was used for any sacrifices the priest placed there. No-one else was allowed in the sacred area, except during times of specific rituals. But just on the outer limit of the area was another, much smaller indentation and this was the one the villagers were allowed to approach and leave gifts within it whenever they asked some special favour of the Lord.

The whole area was regarded as holy ground and the people were always in awe of it whenever they went there. But they silently gathered in a circle around the large indentation, sticking the burning torches around the edge of the sacrificial area. The priest stood quietly, waiting while the villagers arranged themselves, shuffling and coughing, in family groups. One villager came forward, at a pre-arranged signal from the priest, leading an extremely emaciated pig by a piece of garlanded vines.

Zahira stood at the edge of the indentation close to her mother's side. She wanted to laugh when she saw the pig, but as no-one else laughed she hid her smiles behind her hands. The pig lived under the house next door, beneath the props which held up the verandah, and she would often go across to talk to it. It was a likeable pig, but over the last few months it had become bad-tempered because of lack of food. Then, as it got thinner and hungrier it had become lethargic and would spend most of its days lying in the shade beneath the verandah. Zahira would sit for hours talking to it and stroking its rough, pink flanks.

Slowly, one by one, each family brought forward their offering, placing it in the indentation and kneeling silently for a few moment to ask for the blessing of the Lord of Land and Water. Finally they went to the priest who indicated that they touch the pig on its side.

Zahira went forward with her parents and Petara. Slowly Mandell took off her "rice-grain" necklace and placed it with the other things already waiting. They all knelt for a moment and then walked to the priest. Zahira was delighted to see her friend again and stroked its side happily while she murmured a few words to it.

When all had given their offerings, the people stood in a semicircle around the gift-laden shrine, facing the priest. The torchlight flickered over their intent faces, high-lighting the thinness of all of them. The priest moved forward leading the pig, who followed slowly and lay down again, as if glad to rest. Holding a long silver knife in his hand, the priest intoned the traditional prayers for the rites to propitiate the ancestral spirit of the Lord and added a special prayer for rain to return to their village. Then he plunged the knife down and slit the pig's throat. Blood gushed out of the gaping wound, covering the ground of the shrine in a scarlet pool.

Zahira screamed...



Mandell held Zahira in her arms, trying to comfort the distraught child. Zahira sobbed as if her heart would break, the shock of seeing the pig killed so suddenly and in such a way that she could scarcely take it in.

"He was my friend," she sobbed. "I thought everyone else liked him, too; that's why they all went up to touch him. How could they kill him like that? He was my friend."

"Hush, Zahira, hush," soothed her mother. "It was wrong of me not to tell you what was to happen. I didn't realise you even knew about the pig. That pig was the last one in the village and so it was a special sacrifice to the Lord of Land and Water. The pig is now with the Lord and I am sure he is very happy to be there. It won't be long now until the rains return to our land. Then we can obtain more pigs. We'll have one, Zahira. We'll keep it under the house with the chickens."

"I don't want a pig," said Zahira, not to be comforted. "The priest will only take it away again and kill it."

"We won't need to sacrifice another pig once the rains have returned," replied Mandell, but her heart misgave her even as she spoke. Many of the villagers were shocked when they heard Zahira scream and looked upon it as an ill omen. They felt the Lord of Land and Water would not listen to their pleas and sacrifices now. Mandell and her family had been shunned by the other villagers on their way back from the shrine and Mandell felt that many of them would blame Zahira if the rains didn't come.

"I don't want a pig," repeated Zahira. "I wish I had never seen the pig. But I was so tired of trying to catch butterflies, I thought I'd try something that didn't move around so much."

"Oh, Zahira!" sighed her mother. "What were you trying to catch butterflies for? Don't you know even if you caught one you couldn't keep it. It wouldn't survive."

Zahira looked at her in disbelief.

"But why not? They are so beautiful, I wanted one who would sit on my finger, so that I could talk to it."

Mandell shook her head.

"They are beautiful, Zahira. But they would never stay with you. You've been chasing things that are never meant to be caught."

Zahira's shoulders sagged in dejection and she moved away from her mother's arms.

"It doesn't matter now," she said. "All the butterflies have gone from our valley anyway. Still, perhaps one day I may find one that will stay with me."

Slowly she wandered out of the house and Mandell shook her head again. There was nothing she could do to comfort Zahira. Growing up was a hard and lonely business sometimes.



Two weeks later, the villagers of Me-Tan were slowly filing out of their homes, heading towards the high rocky ridge that bordered their valley. Despite the special rites and sacrifices, the rains had not returned and the priest had decided that they must all set out for the Great River and find a new place for their village.

On their shoulders they carried plain canvas bags which held the things that each villager thought would be useful on the journey. What little food they had was packed carefully and carried by the women of each family. Spare clothes, blankets and what jewellery they had filled the other bags. It was little enough they carried with them, but they were all buoyed up by the prospect of finding a new fertile valley to start another village.

Once the villagers had left their own valley, they hoped to find food on the way, to supplement what they had brought with them. But the land they passed through was as dry and infertile as their own valley. The ground was dusty and clouds of it were kicked up by the feet of the people, causing them to cough and choke. It covered their hair and their clothes; it got into their eyes, ears and mouths. It was particularly trying for the young children and babies, making them cry with discomfort.

And water was a constant problem. What they had been able to bring with them, stored in the cleaned stomachs of animals, was soon used up. At each stop the men would dig in the likely looking spots, hoping to find some moisture. Sometimes they were lucky, mostly they were not. The villagers became weaker and suffered from thirst constantly. Their hopes, so high at the start of the journey, began to fall lower each day. The priest found it more and more difficult to make them continue their journey at the start of each day.

And more and more Zahira became the centre of angry looks from the villagers. If she had not screamed at the precise moment when the pig was sacrificed, they would all be home in their valley, watched over by the Lord of Land and Water. The rains would have come and they would never have had to leave their valley.

Zahira became aware that the rest of the villagers were avoiding her. She didn't understand why and at this point she really didn't care. She was exhausted, weak and had never been so unhappy in her life. Every day she hoped to see a butterfly that would be hers. It became almost an obsession and each day when she didn't find one, her spirits sank a little lower.

And then, just when they all felt they could go no further, they spied in the distance a line of trees, marking the edge of a river bed.

"It is the Great River," declared the priest and led them towards it at a quicker place. It was not as far away as it looked and soon all the villagers stood at the line of trees looking across the wide expanse towards the further bank, some hundred yards away.

The villagers of Me-Tan had expected to find a wide, fast flowing river with abundant fertile land on each side. Instead they found the Great River had been reduced to the merest trickle, its bed of pebbles and sand exposed to the hot sun, and what flowing water there was, ran down the centre of the river bed, almost fifty yards away.

The line of trees which they had seen from the distance were almost lifeless and the ground was bare and cracked. All the plants and grass had shrivelled away in the intense heat. There was sick despair in every heart and disbelief on every face as the villagers stood and looked at what remained of the river they believed would be their salvation.

They sat down, men, women and children, just where they were, trying to take in what was before their eyes. As the shock began to wear off, some of the men began to dig in the open bed of the river. Soon everyone was digging with whatever came to hand, cups, plates, sticks, bare hands, and were rewarded with small pools of muddy water. But the people of Me-tan were demoralised; although the river would supply some water, they all knew it would not be enough to sustain them for any length of time. The bare, dry banks of the river told their own story. They all knew they would not be able to build their new village here. And more antagonistic looks were cast in the direction of Zahira and her family.

When Petara and Zahira were asleep that night, Mandell and Zuhar talked the situation over as they sat beside their own camp fire, a little apart from the rest of the group. They both realised that their family was being ostracised but there was little they could do about it.

"I did not realise they would believe that Zahira's scream would affect the Lord of Land and Water. I am sure he is more understanding than that," said Mandell quietly.

"The people are desperate, many are sick. They need someone to blame for their misfortune." Zuhar sighed. "Unfortunately, Zahira provided them with that reason, or so they think."

"You don't believe so, Zuhar?"

Zuhar gave her a hug.

"Of course not, my love. Zahira is a sweet and loving child. Her scream was one of love and concern. The Lord of Land and Water would not punish a whole village for that."

"I know you are right," whispered Mandell, "but it only makes everything so much worse."

"I know," agreed Zuhar softly, "but we must have faith. All will be well in the end." He looked around at the river bed and the desolate land surrounding it.

"However, it is not what we expected," declared Zuhar. "There is not enough water here to supply all of us for any length of time. And look at the land bordering the river. It is as dry and dead as our own valley."

Mandell shook her head wearily. She had very little strength left. What food and water the family had went mainly to the two girls. And often Mandell would carry Zahira when she got tired. Now Mandell felt she could not go on.

"What is there to go on for?" she asked her husband.

"What is there to go back for?" he replied. "We must go on. There is hope in going on. To go back is to die."

Mandell looked at their two girls, asleep side by side, covered with a handwoven blanket of red and white stripes, and knew she would try to go on for their sakes. Surely somewhere there was a future for them. She felt an urge to touch them, to feel the warmth of their bodies as they slept and leaned across, gently brushing the hair back from their faces. She sighed as she looked at them, they looked so frail and thin, their eyes closed in dark hollows.

Zuhar put his arm around Mandell.

"They will survive. Children are tougher than they look."

Mandell smiled sadly.

"They have not had enough food for too long. Their growth has stopped. They look like babies again, but not the healthy babies they used to be."

Mandell's voice broke and she began to cry. Zuhar held her close, unable to offer words of comfort, for he knew whatever words he said would sound hollow and empty. In all the dark days since the drought first started it was the first time Zuhar had seen Mandell cry and it upset him more deeply than he would have thought possible. He rocked her gently in his arms, remembering the times before the children had come, when they been young and life had been good. Mandell had been one of the prettiest girls in the village and Zuhar had counted himself fortunate to have won her love. Now he looked down at her, nestled close in his arms and saw Mandell not as he always saw her, how she had always been to him, but as she really was. Her face sunken and old; and her hair thin and grey. Her body was so thin, the bones felt as they would break.

As he watched she fell asleep, her breathing shallow and regular. Gently he laid her down on the dusty earth and covered her with a blanket. He kissed her softly on the cheek and brushed her hair with his hand. She was so precious to him. Then he lay down beside her and was soon asleep.



The next morning as the sun's rays crept over the horizon, Zuhar woke to find Mandell's body cold and stiff beside him. After the years of want, followed by the long hard trek through the hills, only hope for a better future had kept Mandell going. The discovery that the Great River had almost dried up too, with the land on every side just as bare and dry as their own valley, seemed a portent of doom to her. Mandell had been unable to summon further strength to continue the struggle.

Zuhar, dried-eyed and grief-stricken, had woken the girls. At first they could not believe their mother was dead, they sat beside her holding her hands and calling to her. But she would never answer their calls again. Zuhar knew he must go on for the girls' sake, for that was what Mandell would have wanted him to do, but his heart was heavy and he felt as if a part of himself had died with her.

The priest came and prayed to the Lord of the Dead to look after Mandell in her journey to his realm. He touched her forehead wishing her well in her long journey. Then he told the villagers to rest in whatever shade they could find for the rest of that day. Zuhar must bury his wife; they would continue their journey the following day.

Zuhar spent the morning digging a grave beside the banks of the Great River where Mandell's hopes had died. The girls brought a little water from the thin trickle in the middle of the river bed and cleansed their mother's body, crying silently as they did so. They dressed her in her best clothes and put on her bracelets.

Not one person in the village helped. Mandell was the first person to die and the villagers felt it significant that it was Zahira's mother. No-one wanted to incur the disfavour of the Lord of Land and Water any further and Zuhar and his daughters buried Mandell alone. They sat beside her grave for more than an hour, telling of all the good and wonderful things that were Mandell. The Lord of the Dead should know what a good and deserving woman she was, deserving of admittance to the realm of the dead.



For three more weeks the people of Me-Tan followed the course of the Great River as it meandered out onto the plains. Walking was easier now, as the land flattened out, but it was as bare and as barren as the rest of the land they had walked through.

It was towards mid-day on another hot, dry and dusty day that the villagers saw something on the horizon. It appeared dark, and spread out across a wide area. They could hear the murmur of many voices and there drifted towards them on the faint breeze an unpleasant odour. The villagers stopped for a moment, disconcerted.

"We must go on," declared the priest. "Whatever is ahead of us, we must go on. The Lord of Land and Water will not let us down."

But dark and baleful glances were cast in Zahira's direction and the slow march of the people became slower as the dark stain on the horizon came closer.

The villagers of Me-Tan had found Camp Meo-Sun.

Chapter Five

Kirk walked briskly towards the transporter room early the next morning, but early as he was, Spock was before him.

"Morning, Spock. All ready?"

"Good morning, Captain. I have not yet seen Doctor McCoy, but Mr Scott will be here to transport us to the planet surface. I have fed the co-ordinates into the computer."

"Very good, Spock." Kirk turned as the door to the transporter room swished open and Scotty entered followed by the two security guards detailed for the landing party.

"Morning, Captain. Morning, Mr Spock." Scotty walked over to take his place behind the transporter controls. "Ah, co-ordinates already fed in. Thank you, Mr Spock."

Spock merely nodded slightly.

"Where's Bones?" asked Kirk, a touch of impatience in his voice. "I guess he slept through his early morning call." Kirk moved over to the console. "Just buzz him' Scotty, will you. Just to make sure he's actually awake."

"No need to call me, Jim." McCoy's voice sounded somewhat testy as he came through the door. "I'm right here and before you say anything I'm not late. It's precisely 6 a.m."

Kirk grinned at him.

"Well done, Bones. I'm glad you decided to join us."

"I was under the impression it was an order," retorted McCoy as they all made their way onto the transporter pads.

"When you're ready, Mr Scot," said Kirk. "We'll report back to the ship at one hourly intervals."

"Very good, sir."

"Energise."

Slowly the sparkles of light took them away as Scotty activated the controls.



As they materialised on the planet's surface, their first impression was of heat, noise and smell – it was like the outskirts of hell.

Whichever direction they looked in, all they could see were people; people lying huddled on the hard, dusty earth; people shuffling aimlessly from one point to another, causing dust to swirl around their feet and into the faces of anyone they passed; people who moaned in pain, children who cried in bewilderment, voices that babbled in delirium.

The heat was almost overpowering after the controlled coolness of the Enterprise and Kirk could feel the sweat break out on his face and between his shoulder blades. And the smell was indescribable; dirty, unwashed bodies, the sickly sweet smell of disease and the offensive odour of human excrement. For a moment they were all stunned; whatever they expected it had not been anything like this.

Kirk rubbed the back of his hand across his face, unsure for a moment in which direction to go.

"Do you think there is anyone in charge of this...?" He gestured wordlessly at the people all around them.

"There must be doctors here, surely." McCoy's voice held a note of disbelief. "All these people; there must be someone at least attempting to look after them."

But there was uncertainty in his voice as he surveyed the incredible scene in front of him.

"I would say by their condition, that that is extremely unlikely," replied Spock. "Many of them seem to show symptoms of extreme malnutrition, as well as other diseases."

"Well, for once I agree with you, Spock."

McCoy knelt down beside a young woman who lay on the bare earth holding a tiny, fragile baby.

"May I look at her?" he asked.

The woman nodded apathetically.

"How old is your child?"

"She is three years old." The woman's voice was low and husky an devoid of any expression. It seemed to take her a great effort to speak at all.

"Three years!" exclaimed McCoy in horror. "Jim, look at this child – she doesn't look more than six months."

Kirk looked down at the tiny morsel of humanity as she lay in the woman's arms and the expression on his face told of the horror he felt that equalled McCoy's own. The child's eyes were enormous in her thin face; her stomach was hugely distended and her arms and legs merely bones covered with skin.

"There's nothing we can do at the moment, Bones," said Kirk, his voice quiet and grim. "Leave the child with her mother."

"I must do something to help..."

"That's an order, Bones. Look around you. Everyone is like that. We've got to find the person in charge here. There must be some sort of order in all this hell."

McCoy gently replaced the rags around the child and returned her to her mother. The child lay quiet and was as apathetic as the woman. It was almost more than McCoy could bear to turn and walk away.

"I believe I see tents in that direction," observed Spock, pointing towards the south east, where several low canvas like structures could be seen through the swirling dust.

"We'll head in that direction then," agreed Kirk. "I think you can put your phasers away," he added quietly. "I don't believe we'll be meeting much opposition here."

The walk which followed was one of the most horrific any of them had ever taken. They had materialised on the outer fringes of what was obviously an area where people had come in total and final despair. They had no hope of finding anywhere else to go; no-one in their right minds would choose to live in this way. Large, shallow rectangles had been scooped out of the earth, each area inhabited by a small family unit. There were no walls, no roof, no privacy; each rectangle was only a couple of feet away from the next. The earth that had been taken from the holes were just dumped at one side and left – a dry dusty hump.

The people who lived in these holes had virtually nothing but the clothes they wore. Maybe an old pot and a battered can, a stick to help some of the more infirm people to walk. It was a scene of utter and terrible despair.

The eyes of the destitute people followed the men from the Enterprise as they passed, but their expressions were dead; they were without interest, without hope. And wherever they went there flies; great fat ugly creatures, who buzzed and flew among the huddled masses. They could be seen crawling over the faces of the people who were too apathetic to brush them away.

As Kirk and his men moved further into the camp, there were some small tents, providing a little shelter from the heat and dust for the lucky few who owned them. It was Spock who finally saw a large wooden structure with a corrugated iron roof. As they approached they could see that it had a large red cross painted on it; if there was anyone in charge they must surely be here.

Kirk entered the building, closely followed by McCoy and Spock; the two security guards remained outside. After the brightness, it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the dim light within. Air and daylight came in through small rectangular openings set high, near the roof. One thin shaft of sunlight filtered through, illuminating the misery of the crowded floor. Lines of people sat or lay side by side on the hard-packed earth; their bodies thin to the point of extreme emaciation, many were delirious with fever. There were many children with the now familiar distended bellies and stick-like legs and arms; some were crying, some too far gone to cry, lay still with their huge eyes staring into nothingness. The smell of sweat, vomit and human excrement was like a miasma and clung to the nostrils of Kirk, Spock and McCoy, making them feel physically sick.

As they took in the scene before them, they became aware that moving amongst these desperately unhappy people were several others who seemed to be doctors or nurses. Even as they watched, one of them, a young woman, came towards them. Her face held an expression of hopeful disbelief.

"Where have you come from?" she asked. "Don't tell me the government are finally recognising that we have a problem here and are sending help?"

Kirk held out his hand.

"I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, representing the United Federation of Planets. This is my First Officer Mr Spock and my Chief Surgeon Doctor McCoy. No, we're not from the Government, but we are certainly here to help in any way we can. And you most certainly have one hell of a problem."

"You're right there, Captain. I'm Doctor Serena Macauley. I'm here entirely without authority, as are the rest of the team. We're here because we can't be anywhere else when there is suffering like this on such a scale. What can you do to help?"

McCoy shook Serena Macauley's hand.

"I have a fully equipped surgery and hospital on board the Enterprise. I can manufacture what drugs you need. I also have a first class medical team. Tell us what you want."

For a moment Serena Macauley was silent; she seemed stunned. She ran a hand tiredly through her hair and gave the men a somewhat shaky smile.

"I can't quite believe that someone has actually come to help and has something solid to offer."

She sniffed and gave another smile, but Kirk could see there were tears in her eyes. He caught hold of her arm.

"We'll do everything we can, but first we need to know the extent of the problem. Let's go outside and then you can tell us how all this came about."

Serena nodded her head.

"Just give me a moment. I must finish with the patient I was dealing with."

"Of course."

The men watched as Serena picked her way through the sprawling bodies. She knelt beside a young child and wiped the sweat from his face with a small cloth, then gave him a sip of water from a plastic dipper and then helped him lie back on the hard earth. She said a few words to him and then, picking up the dipper and a large plastic canister, she walked back to the Enterprise men and led the way outside.

Adjacent to the wooden building was a small canvas tent. As they went inside they saw it contained no more than a few rucksacks, obviously holding personal belongings and a few sacks and crates of dried food. There were blankets on the ground where people slept.

Serena smiled wryly.

"This is our home. This is where my team and I sleep. Not very impressive I grant you, but it's all we have. The food that you see is all we have left to feed everyone." She laughed mirthlessly. "I just don't think it's going to be enough to go round. Actually, we are expecting a delivery – it's overdue in fact. A couple of trucks are supposed to be on their way to us. They just haven't arrived yet."

"But how did this happen?" asked Kirk. "Where did all these people come from? Why aren't the government helping? I spoke to Charles Evard a couple of days ago and he appeared to know nothing about this. He spoke only of two camps in the south."

"He never mentioned Camp Meo-Sun?" asked Serena.

"Camp Meo-Sun?"

"Captain, this is Camp Meo-Sun and I know Charles Evard knows about it. He just chose not to tell you."

"But why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." There was a shadow in Serena's eyes that suggested that she knew more than she intended to say. Kirk decided not to press her on the issue, there were more important things right now.

"These people are from the hill area, aren't they?" Kirk asked.

"Quite right, Captain. The Kariang."

"Are conditions so bad in the hills?"

"So bad, Captain, that they prefer to live like this." She gestured to the people huddled outside. "The drought has hit the hill area much worse than the plains. The village land has dried up and no longer supports enough crops to keep the people alive. The wells they dig no longer bring up water; the streams and rivers have dried up. Even the Great River is a mere trickle now."

"But how do so many come to be here? And why this particular area?"

"Mainly they have walked here or they have been carried. Once they left their villages they headed for the Great River, each village tribe hoping to make a new home on its banks. When they reached the river and found conditions hardly better than where they came from, they followed the course of the river and eventually found Lake Meo-Sun. When the first tribes came here, the lake was a reasonable size and as well as being fed by the Great River, it has a smaller river entering at its north eastern end. For some freakish reason for which we are duly grateful, this river has not dried up and so the lake is our only source of water. But with the Great River now down to a trickle and the numbers of people who are constantly arriving the lake is getting lower and lower. The water will not last forever. Our situation is quite desperate, Captain."

"I realise that, Doctor Macauley," said Kirk gravely.

"We are doing what we can," continued Serena. "The camp is spread along the southern and western shore of the lake, so that the people do not have too far to walk for water. No-one has very much stamina. We have dug several wells along the edge of the lake to tap the water table. So far the water is sufficient, but only just."

Kirk looked out over the crowded, dusty camp before him, his hazel eyes dark with concern. There were so many people, huddled close together, trying to survive in incredible conditions that he could scarcely take it in. And they had seen only a small area of the camp. Kirk never expected to see anything quite like this and he knew that in the face of such a problem his starship, despite her immense resources, could only begin to try and help a very small proportion of the people here.

He turned to McCoy, seeing the same expression of stunned despair on the doctor's face as Kirk felt himself. He laid his hand on McCoy's arm.

"Bones?"

McCoy turned to him slowly like a man awakening from a nightmare.

"Jim," his voice was the merest whisper. "I can't believe what I'm seeing. All these people... all the suffering..."

"I know, Bones, I know." Kirk gave McCoy's arm a squeeze. "We've got to do what we can."

Kirk could almost see McCoy giving himself a mental shake.

"You're right, Jim." McCoy's voice was louder and more positive. "I'll get a list of medications required."

"Right. I'll leave the medical side to you and Doctor Macauley here. Let me know as soon as possible exactly what you need. Strip the Enterprise bare if you have to. I'll contact the Federation for what we need."

"O.K., Jim. I'll get on to it right away."

Kirk turned to Serena.

"In the meantime, Spock and I will try and work out what food, stores and general goods we can provide immediately. And what the camp needs in the way of emergency supplies from the Federation."

"Just about everything we can lay our hands on," replied Serena. "Thank you, Captain." She heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief. "Perhaps there is a god after all. If there is, he's certainly answered my prayers. Now what do you want me to do?"

"I'll need someone to take me round the camp; show me what, if any, facilities you have. What needs to be done. I have a work force of over four hundred people who, if I know my crew, will all want to help. Have you any idea how many people are here?"

"With people arriving constantly and the many deaths which occur daily I can't say with any degree of accuracy, but I would say about sixty thousand."

"Oh my god!" Kirk's voice was quiet and he could now see the enormity of the problem even more clearly; and the odds against which Doctor Macauley and her band of followers had been battling. He could feel his anger begin to rise. It was impossible for the Mercian Government not to know about this camp. Why had they refused to help? And what was worse, why had Evard pretended that it didn't exist and try to prevent Kirk from finding out about it?

Sometime in the near future, Kirk decided, he was going to pay Evard another visit and find out what the hell was going on. But for now his main concern was to get help for the camp started. Serena Macauley watched Kirk for a few moment and saw the play of emotions over his expressive face; she knew somehow that here was someone who would be as good as his word. It felt good to know that soon something positive would be done to alleviate the suffering of Camp Meo-Sun.

Finally Kirk turned to Serena.

"O.K. Let's get started. Have you someone who can take Spock and me around the camp?"

"Yes, I have; his name is Tom Butler. He usually spends most his time walking the camp trying to help those who are too weak or ill to be brought to the hospital. He knows the camp very well. Fortunately at the moment he is working at the hospital. I'll go and get him."

"Thanks, Doctor Macauley. He sounds ideal." He turned to McCoy with a smile. "Well, Bones, I take it you are volunteering to remain at the hospital."

"I sure am, Jim. This place is..." McCoy shook his head. "I just haven't got the words," he finished quietly.

"I understand, Bones. I feel the same." Kirk's voice was quiet. "But we are sure as hell going to do something about it." He nodded in the direction Serena Macauley had taken. "Go ahead. Get your medics down as soon as you like."

"Thanks, Jim". McCoy hurried after Serena's retreating figure.

Kirk looked at Spock.

"You've been very quiet, Spock."

"Indeed, Captain. As Doctor McCoy observed, there are no words. For once he is absolutely right. This whole situation is beyond belief and I am at a loss to explain the behaviour of the Government in allowing this situation to develop in the first place and then refusing to acknowledge its existence."

"Well, that is one thing I am going to find out from Charles Evard. You and I will be paying him a visit as soon as we have some idea what help Doctor Macauley and her team need. He has certainly got a great deal to answer for."

"It would seem they are critically short of every basic requirement. We can supply a great deal from the Enterprise stores and Mr Scott can manufacture more, but..."

"But it's not going to even scratch the surface," broke in Kirk. "Yeah, I know. The sooner we see the camp, the sooner I can inform the Federation. The sooner the supplies get here the better."

Kirk walked out of the tent into the hot sun. The security guards were waiting patiently for him. Kirk could see the shock in their faces.

"It's not pretty, is it?" he said as the guards looked at him.

"Captain," Elmson's voice shook slightly. "I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. It's like some awful nightmare. What can we do to help."

"I want you and Hughes here to return to the Enterprise. It's not security guards that are needed here, but people to help. At the moment I am not sure just exactly what is needed, but Mr Spock and I will be inspecting the whole camp and when we return to the ship I will be talking to the whole crew. Don't worry, there will be plenty for you and everyone else on the Enterprise to do down here before long."

"Thank you, Captain," replied Elmson, reaching for his communicator. Within a few seconds the two guards shimmered away.

Kirk looked round as Spock joined him and saw a small, frail looking child who sat on the dry earth near the tent. She wore a grubby red and white shirt and her legs and arms were painfully thin. On impulse Kirk bent down and picked her up.

"Hello, young lady. What's your name?" he asked smiling into her enormous brown eyes.

"Zahira," she replied quietly, unafraid of this stranger, who had so boldly picked her up. "And I'm ten and I live here."

Kirk couldn't speak for a moment. Ten?! The child looked no more than five; she was tiny and underdeveloped; she seemed to weigh no more than the proverbial feather. He forced a smile back on his face.

"Ten, eh?" he said. "How long have you been here?"

"A long time. I hoped when we came here there would be butterflies, but although I've looked and looked, I haven't found one."

"I don't think you will find any butterflies here. They like flowers and growing things. I'm afraid it isn't the right kind of place for butterflies."

"Oh dear," sighed Zahira. "I always wanted to catch a butterfly but I never have. Have you ever caught one?"

"No, I don't believe I have," replied Kirk in amusement. "I really don't think butterflies like to be caught."

"My mother told me that too. But I still want one."

"Where is your mother?" asked Kirk looking around.

"My mother died a long time ago. And my father and sister died soon after we reached here." Zahira's tone was matter-of-fact, but there was a loneliness and sadness in her eyes which told of pain suffered and borne with stoicism, because there was nothing else to do. Kirk could feel a lump in his throat as he looked at Zahira, knowing she was probably just one of so many; it somehow didn't make it any easier.

Zahira looked at him and smiled.

"You don't have a pig, do you?"

"A – a pig?" Kirk's voice was a little bemused. "I don't believe we do have a pig, do we, Mr Spock?"

"I am afraid, Zahira," said Spock seriously, "a pig is not a creature we have on the Enterprise."

Zahira looked at Spock for the first time. Her eyes widened. She turned in Kirk's arms to whisper loudly in his ear.

"Why are his ears like that?"

Kirk couldn't suppress a smile at the rather indignant expression on Spock's face.

"It's because he's a Vulcan. The ears may look a trifle odd but they hear exceptionally well."

"Oh dear," Zahira whispered even lower. "Do you suppose he heard me?"

"I'm afraid so. But he's used to people making remarks about his ears."

"I wish, Captain, that you would refrain from speaking about me as if I wasn't here."

Kirk grinned.

"Sorry, Spock."

"Why does he call you Captain?" Zahira questioned.

"Because I am a Captain of a starship."

"A starship?"

"It's a little difficult to explain. But it's a kind of ship that sails in space instead of the sea."

There was a puzzled frown on Zahira's face.

"I... see," she said, but it was obvious that she didn't understand at all.

At that moment Serena Macauley came out of the hospital with a young man with a mop of curly brown hair and an engaging smile.

"Captain Kirk. Mr Spock. This is Tom Butler. He'll be your guide around the camp."

Carefully Kirk placed Zahira on the ground.

"It's been nice talking to you, Zahira. But now I have to walk around the camp."

"I know the camp very well. May I come too?"

Kirk looked at Tom.

"O.K. with you?" he asked.

"Sure. We all know Zahira anyway. Don't we, moppet?" And Tom Butler ruffled her hair.

Zahira smile and took hold of Kirk's hand. Zahira felt she had made a friend.

Chapter Six

Late that night Kirk paced the floor of his cabin, unable to sleep. The awful scenes he had seen at Camp Meo-Sun played themselves continuously in his mind, making sleep impossible. The suffering he had witnessed was not something to be forgotten and anger at what he had seen added to his sleeplessness. He intended to visit Charles Evard again the next day to try and force some answers from him; to find out the reasons why Camp Meo-Sun had been allowed to happen. But he knew that whatever he found out from Evard would do nothing to help the present situation at the camp.

After he had beamed back with Spock to the Enterprise, they had both quickly made their way to the nearest briefing room and making use of the computer there, had spent several hours trying to work out the best way the Enterprise could help. Supplies of grain, lentils, dried milk, rice were got ready for transporting down to the surface, but the amounts were far too small to be of any real help. Blankets, clothes, small tents, utensils, all were ordered to be manufactured in the highest possible numbers, but again the amounts were meagre compared to the numbers living in the camp. There was a limit to what one starship could do.

Kirk instructed Uhura to open a channel to the nearest Starbase and for the next hour talked to the Commander in charge. Soon materials and provisions of all kinds would be pouring into Mercia, but for many of the people that help would be too late.

Kirk sighed. He was exhausted and he knew he needed to sleep; he forced himself to climb into bed and dim the lights. For the moment he had done all he could. He had called for volunteers to help at Meo-Sun and Kirk was proud and moved when the entire crew of the Enterprise volunteered. Once he had finished speaking to the Starbase he and Spock had worked for several more hours arranging schedules for everyone to help somewhere in the camp, whilst maintaining a skeleton crew aboard the ship. Now it was all finally done and Kirk knew that tomorrow would be even busier than today.

There would be the distribution of the supplies; the setting up of small hospitals around the camp, manned by the Enterprise crew, each in charge of one of the Enterprise's medical teams. He had not heard from McCoy since he had left him at the hospital, apart from an enormous list of medical supplies which he had left with Uhura, adding a message to say he hadn't time to report back in person.

Kirk turned on his side and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. Instead a small, painfully thin child with enormous brown eyes appeared in his mind's eye. Zahira. Somehow he couldn't get her out of his mind. He had heard part of her story from Tom Butler. She had arrived a the camp about eight months ago with a small group from a village called Me-tan. Zahira was with her father and older sister. And for some reason which Tom couldn't fathom the whole village shunned them. When they had settled at the camp, Zahira and her family had lived at a considerable distance from the rest of the villagers. Zahira's sister had died almost immediately, the long trek south had been too much for her. Zuhar, the father and Zahira had taken the body to the burial grounds alone, none of the villagers accompanied them and Tom had found this extremely unusual. When he had spoken of it to Zuhar, he had shrugged his shoulders and refused to answer.

Zuhar and Zahira had found a small piece of earth near the hospital and had dug the usual rectangular hole to live in. But Zuhar had become more and more apathetic every day and faded quietly away three months after his elder daughter. Tom had helped Zahira bury her father as there was no-one else and from then on Zahira had stayed near the hospital, helping when she could. She was always bright, always cheerful, always hopeful of finding the butterflies.

"It's become a symbol to her," Tom had said. "A symbol of happy times with the people she loved. When she was a child the valley where she lived was full of butterflies – she was always trying to catch them. She remembers those days as happy and full of love, when her only unfulfilled need was to catch a butterfly. Now, she is trying to recapture that happiness and subconsciously she feels if she catches a butterfly she will find herself in the valley with her family again."

Tom had shrugged his shoulders. There were many such sad tales in the camp. Tom spent his days trying to alleviate some of the suffering and much of his time was spent listening to such reminiscences. Zahira was one of many. But to Kirk she was somehow a symbol of Camp Meo-Sun, and what the drought and famine had done to everyone there.

Finally he fell asleep, but his dreams were disturbed by butterflies, pigs and a small girl named Zahira.



The following morning Kirk and Spock had breakfast early. There was no-one in the dining room and they were able to discuss further details of the plans to help Camp Meo-Sun.

Starbase Twelve had been alerted and was already contacting the rest of the Federation with news of the tragedy. It would not be long before help was on its way, but in the meantime the Enterprise had to try and provide as much help as possible for the people at the camp.

Kirk and Spock spent a great deal of time looking through lists of materials which Scotty had provided and deciding in exactly what way they could be used to be of the greatest help.

"I think with the manufactured metallium it would be best to provide hospitals at five positions throughout the camp, rather than individual shelters. At least it means that there is a centre for medical help not too far away from everyone and it will also provide shelter for the most seriously sick where they can at least stand a chance of recovery." Kirk looked down the lists in front of him and his lips tightened for a moment. "Even so, it's little enough. With five hospitals we'll be able to provide five hundred beds or at least sleeping places – out of sixty thousand."

He shook his head and looked at Spock.

"When do you think the first supply ships will be here, Spock?"

"I would estimate at least three weeks, Captain. The ships have to be loaded, the goods made ready. The journey from Starbase Twelve itself is time consuming. The authorities have been told that medical aid and supply is of the first importance."

"Have we enough medical supplies to last until the first supply ships arrive?" asked Kirk.

"I fear not, Captain," replied Spock. "There is a limit to what we can manufacture with the raw materials we have."

"I have advised Starbase Twelve that we must have a complete stock of a starship's supply of raw materials. We cannot afford to be completely without resources."

"Indeed not. I trust that will also be given priority."

"I think Commander Pearson realised that," said Kirk with a grin, remembering that his words to Pearson had left the Commander in no doubt as to what Kirk required and expected.

Kirk finished his coffee and replaced the cup in the saucer.

"Any more news of that surge of energy, Spock?"

"No, Captain. It does not seem to have occurred again. I am at a loss to explain the reason for it."

"Well, don't worry about it. Perhaps it was a fluctuation of the sensors themselves."

"Possible but unlikely. I rechecked the sensors myself. It is most odd."

Spock pushed his plate to one side and clasped his hands in front of him on the table.

"There is something I wish to tell you, Jim." He stopped and looked around the still empty dining room. "I have given the matter a great deal of thought and I want you to be the first one to know of my decision. I know this is not a good time to add to your problems, but in a way the situation we found at Camp Meo-Sun has brought things to a head."

Kirk looked at his friend in concern. He had known there was something bothering him for quite a while now.

"Go on, Spock, " he said quietly.

"I intend to resign from Starfleet at the end of this mission." Spock could not bring himself to look at his Captain as he spoke, knowing the shock and dismay he would see there.

"What!" Kirk's voice was barely a whisper. "Are you serious, Spock?"

"Quite serious, Jim. Let me explain if I can."

"I'd be interested to hear."

"When I thought my father was dying and I was the only one who could save him, it created a special bond between us." Spock shook his head. "When I put my position in Starfleet before the life of my own father I did not hesitate in my decision. I knew it was the only course I could take, but afterwards I had time to meditate. For eighteen years Starfleet had been my whole life. It had been my own decision made in the face of direct opposition to my father. I did not consider how he felt, nor did I consider how my mother felt during those eighteen years when my father and I did not speak. I had all that I wanted and I was content. I was also selfish. Why should I be arrogant enough to live my life while causing deep unhappiness to others. Do you understand, Jim?"

"Not really, Spock. Every parent must face the knowledge that their child must eventually live its own life and it often isn't what those parents want. If the parent are honest enough they must surely realise that if their child is happy that is the most important thing."

"Perhaps to Humans that is true. But for a true Vulcan like my father it would not be so. It had been planned since my birth that I would enter the Vulcan Science Academy and become a true Vulcan despite the Human blood that I carried. Although my father loved my mother, he did not want to accept a half Human child. I must be all Vulcan.

"I thought I was all Vulcan here in Starfleet, but I realise that I am in error. Having spoken with my father in great depth, I can see how much I have deviated from true Vulcanism. Sarek has asked me again if I will join him at the Vulcan Science Academy and he will help train me in the rites that will endeavor to exorcise much of my Human side."

"And what does Amanda think about all this, Spock?" asked Kirk.

"It will not be discussed with her, but she will, of course, be in full agreement with my father."

"Of course." Kirk's tone was slightly ironic.

"It has not been an easy decision to make. I have spent many hours in meditation. It will not be easy to leave Starfleet." He looked down at his hands again. "Nor to leave the Enterprise. I value your friendship more than I can say, Jim. You have supported me in many ways and I will treasure the memory of our time together as Captain and First Officer of the Enterprise; as you have said, the finest Starship in the Fleet."

Kirk could barely hear Spock and he leaned forward slightly.

"You said, Spock, that Camp Meo-Sun brought matters to a head. What did you mean by that?"

"What I saw at Camp Meo-Sun affected me profoundly, Jim. I have never been so moved by so much suffering."

"But surely anyone would feel that, Spock? The conditions down there are appalling. The plight of those people couldn't fail to affect anyone who saw it."

"I disagree, Jim. Vulcans pride themselves on not showing emotion and yesterday..."

"I wasn't aware that you showed any emotion. Damn it, Spock, you can't resign simply because of the pity you felt for the suffering humanity down there. I need you here, on the Enterprise. You are someone I can rely on whatever the situation. You've save my hide and pride on more than one occasion. How can you turn your back on everything we've built over the years?" Kirk's tone was almost pleading. "Besides, you're my friend, my very valued friend, and I don't want to lose you."

"I'm sorry, Jim." Spock's voice was barely a whisper. "My mind is made up."

There was a silence. A silence of anguish and pain at something vital and valuable that was to be lost. Kirk stood up.

"I won't try and persuade you, Spock. I think far too much of you for that. But I will hope that somehow you will change your mind. Life will be pretty bleak on the Enterprise without you." He looked down at Spock's bent head and sighed.

"Mr Spock. I think we have an appointment with Charles Evard that we have to keep."

Spock looked up his face expressionless. He knew Kirk would always go on whatever the difficulties, whatever the pain. It was one of the many qualities of Kirk's he admired. He rose to his feet, knowing they both had their jobs to do.

"Indeed, Captain, it will be... interesting to hear what he has to say."



Kirk and Spock materialised in front of Government House and hurried up the steps and in through the doors. A guard challenged them, but recognising them both from their last visit, he let them pass.

"No doubt he will ring through to Landers to notify him that we are here," remarked Kirk. "Unfortunate. I wanted to confront Evard before he had a chance to concoct some glib story. He's a very tricky customer."

"He will have an explanation ready. I do not think he is such a fool as to believe we would not find Camp