Into the dark ...

[T'aral 0]

Talaxian ... there were few in the mines. They rarely came this far, and they did not appear to be a hearty species. T'Aral found her contact easy to find; she watched for someone being preyed upon by others. When she came upon an unfamiliar looking female, she deduced that this was the one she was sent to speak with. There was a small matter of two male inmates who seemed to have other intentions for her ... and for T'Aral, once she protested. This was quickly deterred with a suitable application of Suus Mahna and a demonstration which indicated that she knew where most sapien life forms kept their neural junctions. The assailants backed away as quickly as they could, their eyes wide.

 

"You ... you are ... T'Arr?"

 

T'Aral nodded, inwardly surprised that the moniker that Lieutenant Shalin had given her had reached this far. By the looks on her assailants faces, it would prove useful. "I expect that a further demonstration is not necessary?" The assailants shook their heads, backing away respectfully while guards began to step in. T'Aral raised her hands and knelt in immediate deference, a gesture which proved surprisingly effective. Unaccustomed to co-operative inmates, the guards stared at each other in confusion before finally ordering T'Aral to the mines, to which she swiftly complied - gathering up the Talaxian on the way.

 

The girl looked up at her. "I'm Wennit. When we get to the mines, follow me."

 

A single eyebrow raised in curiosity, but T'Aral nodded. When they arrived she complied, eventually finding herself in a deep spur. They eventually came upon a group of prisoners: mostly human, with a few from other Federation races. The girl walked up to a shorter man who was clearly in charge, gesturing for T'Aral to follow. Tugging on the man's sleeve, she gestured to him. "This is Commander Bartlett. Sir - the other prisoners call her 'T'Arr'."

 

He nodded to her. "Welcome; it is wonderful to see you here."

 

T'Aral eyebrow arced higher. "Is it? I would've expected otherwise."

 

"You don't understand: only a few Vulcans have ever entered the caverns of Rura Penthe. Those that do are dead within a day by their own hand. It's logical, you see, to die that way instead of serving Klingon masters for months or years in pain. The fact that you're still alive means that you have something else in mind."

 

"I find your reasoning sound, except for one flaw. This prison is supposedly secure ... that is to say, inescapable."

 

Bartlett laughed. "This place? It is simple to escape. Too many prisoners, too few guards, cracks and fissures in the rock at every turn. Escape is easy. What's hard is the fact that most beings can survive maybe an hour on the surface with the furs we're given. After escaping, a quick way off the planet is needed. With no cities, spaceports, or indigenous life to live off of, this prison is quite inescapable." Bartlett then patted a friendly hand on T'Aral's shoulder. "What we need is someone who already figured out that part."

 

T'Aral looked at his hand calmly, then back at him. "Should such a circumstance present itself, I will advise you of it." She looked about at the group. There were about a dozen and a half in all - considerably more than T'Aral anticipated, and probably quite a few more than Ashton or Starfleet Intelligence would have expected given the circumstances. The matter would have to be discussed before the final phase of the mission was engaged. Almost two dozen people, including the Talaxians: the mission was growing more ambitious every moment.

 

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At the end of the shift, T'Aral made her way back up the shaft with Wennit. As they turned a corner they found themselves facing a scraggly, smiling female. Dark eyes seemed to scan them as she looked about, shockingly piercing in contrast to almost dead-grey skin. Her head bobbed about, scanning every alcove before finally looking down at Wennit. "Hey kid ... go back and hang with the pinkies. The grown-ups need to chat."

 

A nod from T'Aral sent Wennit back. "Please be brief; it is not my intention to upset the guards."

 

The woman smiled broadly. "Right to the point - I just love Vulcans. Your people don't mess about ... I really do like that." Her head bobbed about again before focusing on T'Aral. "You're getting out of here - I want out too."

 

T'Aral's face was perfectly passive. "You presume much. This planet bears no city or spaceport: there is physically no means of escape."

 

"True ... but you're with the new group: the Vultures. Strange: you stick together, you watch each other ... but you're not like other gangs. You're not carving out a niche for yourself: your own personal space. Looks to me like you're not planning to stick around. Now ... I could tell the guards, or ..."

 

T'Aral was not gifted in the art of such discussions. It needed to be ended quickly. "I see little logic in your informing the guards - it would likely gain you nothing."

 

The woman frowned. "Oh don't act stupid - Vulcans are so much smarter than that. We both know I don't want to tell the guards squat. I'm just desperate to get off this rock, and you're the closest thing I've seen to hope in a long time. Now ..." She wrapped a friendly arm about T'Aral's shoulder. "... as I see it, you need prisoner training. You need to be taught, and fast, how to behave so that the guards relax and stop watching you. I teach you this, and you take me with you when the bus shows up. Simple?"

 

T'Aral considered her words. "What brings you to believe I would carry out my part of your proposal?"

 

"Vulcans never welch on a debt. I do you this favor, and I know that you'll take care of me."

 

T'Aral sighed; her new companion was right, especially when it came to T'Aral. To accept her help and then not help her in return would injure T'Aral's Katra, a fate every Vulcan avoided. Furthermore it was logical to engage her help regardless of whether or not it was of any real value, as that was the most logical step in assuring her silence for the duration of their stay. Ashton was not going to like this further complication, but then things were hardly proceeding according to the plan of Starfleet Intelligence. Fortunately, that was not a surprise. She turned and nodded. "I am called Doctor T'Arr."

 

The smile that was offered in response was heartwarming, even for T'Aral. "I'm Tch'ana. Now - let's start with what you should be doing. You need to pick a set of bunks and kick everyone else out of them, staying together. Having your own turf means everything here." It took an hour to get out of the tunnels, during which T'Aral took in an extensive briefing on Rura Penthe society. Even with no other use, it was a fascinating lecture.