Having asked his question, Commander Hayes waited for his team’s response. Percy remained silent. He didn’t feel qualified to offer suggestions on how to escape. Tanner, thankfully, was the first to break the silence.

“We need to figure out how they brought us below the surface,” Tanner drawled. “We should be able to use that to get us back up there.”

Hayes nodded. “Agreed. You and I will focus on that.”

“Aye, sir,” Tanner replied, folding his arms.

Looking at the other two officers, Hayes told them, “I want the two of you to spend your time learning more about these people. Yamada, you’ll focus on their culture and history.”

Yamada acknowledged the order with a silent nod.

“Doctor Montague,” Hayes continued. “Focus on learning more about their biology. Especially that thing Alyra mentioned, The Wasting. What is it? Is it connected to what we’ve observed of these people and, most importantly, is it contagious?”

Percy had theories in answer to some of those questions, but he wasn’t about to offer theories that were unsupported by anything other than visual observation.

“Aye, sir.” Percy nodded.

Tanner chose that moment to yawn loudly. Percy knew how he felt. Whatever had knocked them out on the surface had left him feeling drained.

Hayes dragged his hand over his face. “Alright, before any of that, the three of you get some shut-eye.”

“What about you, sir?” Percy asked.

“I’ll keep watch over the three of you while you sleep,” Hayes told him. “I’ll sleep when one of you wakes and can relieve me.”

Satisfied with that answer, Percy ambled over to one of the bunk beds. 

“I call top bunk,” Tanner called as he climbed onto the higher bed of the bunk that Percy was approaching.

Rolling his eyes, Percy rolled onto the bottom bunk and looked up at the underside of Tanner’s mattress. He rolled onto his side, facing the stone wall of their dorm, and closed his eyes. Despite the pull of fatigue, sleep did not come easily, but it did come eventually.

After several hours of fitful sleep, Percy approached one of the guards assigned to watch over them.

“Excuse me?”

The guard looked Percy over. “What do you want?”

“I was wondering if you could take me to a medical professional?”

“Are you sick?”

“No,” Percy replied. Deciding to take a different tack, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Rionel,” he answered after a brief hesitation.

Percy offered a friendly smile. “Rionel, I don’t like to sit around. I was hoping to use my time productively by learning about your people and your biology.”

Rionel didn’t say anything. He glowered at Percy for a few silent seconds before growling, “Follow me.”

Percy did as he was told. As before, they passed several of the planet’s inhabitants. Percy counted thirty-seven in total. He offered each one of them the same warm smile that he regularly used on patients. In return, he received looks of surprise, suspicion, and curiosity from the people they encountered. They walked for what felt like more than five minutes, the fresh scent of the dorm forgotten about, replaced by the familiar dampness that he remembered from the cell.

“This is the Loranis Medical Clinic,” Rionel announced as they approached a large metal door that parted as they arrived.

The antiseptic smell that assaulted his nostrils even before he’d set foot inside the clinic almost made him feel like he was home, if it weren’t for the fact that he was still surrounded by rock and rooms scooped out of it.

Stepping through the doorway, Percy looked around the clinic’s reception area. There were plain metal chairs arranged in what appeared to be a waiting area. The dirt floor was covered in metal plates, and the bare rock walls, commonplace elsewhere, were covered in a plastic-like cladding that had once been white but was now more yellow. It was warmer in here than anywhere else Percy had been so far, which was a welcome change.

Behind a desk, a man with salt and pepper hair looked up. His eyes bulged when he spotted Percy.

The man pressed a control on his desk and quickly announced, “Healer Ithara to reception.”

“I’ll just,” Percy awkwardly pointed to one of the chairs. “Wait here, shall I?”

The receptionist nodded slowly, his wide eyes never leaving Percy.

The chairs didn’t look particularly comfortable, and upon sitting on one of them, Percy could confirm they were even less comfortable than they looked. He was relieved not to have to sit for too long. A woman hobbled through a second door and approached the reception desk. Even with her stoop, she was as tall as Percy. Her golden hair was tied back into a messy bun. She didn’t look much older than Percy.

“What is it, Veyric?” Ithara asked shortly.

Veyric jerked his head in Percy’s direction. If Ithara was surprised by Percy’s appearance, she masked it well. She winced as she stepped closer. Percy could feel her eyes studying him closely.

“Well,” Ithara began. “I’d heard about you newcomers, but I did not expect one of you to visit my clinic.”

Percy stepped forward. “I’m Doctor Percy Montague.”

“What can I do for you, Doctor Percy Montague?” Ithara asked. “I don’t believe I can be of much assistance if you are ill.”

Her words brought a smile to Percy’s lips. “I’m fine, thank you. And you can call me Percy.”

“If you are not seeking medical assistance, then why are you here?”

“I was hoping to learn more about your people from a medical perspective,” Percy replied.

Ithara’s eyebrows rose into her forehead. “You have medical knowledge?”

“I do,” Percy told her. “I’m a doctor, a healer, like you.”

Through narrowed eyes, Ithara studied Percy silently for a moment.

“Very well. I can give you a tour of the clinic, and I’ll answer your questions to the best of my abilities.”

Veyric shot out of his chair. “Are you sure that’s wise? Perhaps I should accompany you.”

“I’m sure my safety is assured with Rionel shadowing us,” Ithara told him smoothly. “If you’ll come with me.” 

Veyric slowly lowered himself back onto his chair, eyeing Percy with a squint.

Percy followed Ithara through the second door and found himself in a corridor where the metal floor and wall cladding continued from the reception. There were three metal doors, two on one side and one on the other. Rionel followed closely behind them.

“How long have your people lived underground?”

Ithara moved slowly, each movement deliberate. She masked her pain well, but Percy was trained to notice. He matched her pace. 

“For about twenty generations. When the surface became irradiated, our ancestors were forced to move underground. Deep enough that the surface radiation would not reach us.”

Following Ithara into the first door on the left. The antiseptic smell was stronger in here. There was a bed in the middle of the room. On a nearby shelf were several devices that Percy assumed were for diagnosis and treatment. One was long and thin. Was it a dermal regenerator, a probe or a hypospray? Percy’s fingers itched to lift and examine it more closely, but he refrained. 

“This is a private treatment room,” Ithara explained, though it was unnecessary. Percy would have recognised the purpose of this room without it.

With a smile, he said, “This looks exactly like one of our exam rooms.”

“Really?” Ithara’s eyebrows shot up.

Percy nodded. “It’s amazing. Our peoples developed at different rates, separated by thousands of light-years. Yet I can walk into a room and immediately ascertain its purpose. The devices we use are different, but the room itself feels so familiar.”

Ithara’s eyes softened, and the ghost of a smile played on her lips. “Let’s keep going.”

The next room Ithara showed him was much larger, with beds along opposite sides of the wall. Five people stood around, with another three lying on the beds. Each one of them watched Percy with the same wide-eyed expression that Veyric wore when he first caught sight of Percy.

“You’ll have to forgive them,” Ithara told him smoothly.

Percy smiled. “You can’t blame them. I’m sure it’s not every day they come face to face with an alien.”

“Does this room match what you have?”

While he looked around the room, Percy nodded. “Yes. We have wards very similar to this. I mean, there are differences, but the broad layout is much the same.”

“Interesting,” 

Percy spent a few minutes following Ithara around the ward. The blankets at the foot of the empty beds looked old. Some of them were threadbare and were long past the point they would have been replaced on the Challenger.

It’s not like these people have the kinds of resources we do, Percy gently chided himself.

Everyone he was introduced to greeted him awkwardly and seemed relieved when he moved on to the next person. Ithara eventually led him back out into the corridor and through the third door. She reached for a switch on the wall and flicked it to activate the lights.

With a loud hum, overhead lights flickered several times before coming on. The room was washed in a cool white light.  In here were several consoles and what looked like bulky pieces of diagnostic equipment.

“What would you say this room is for?” Ithara asked.

Percy walked around the room slowly. The antiseptic smell was weaker here, but the dust in here was tickling his nose. He sneezed loudly, covering his nose with his hands.

“Are you okay?” Ithara’s eyebrows drew closer as she asked the question.

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Percy nodded. “I’m fine. I have a slight sensitivity to dust.”

Continuing to examine the equipment in the room, Percy ran his finger along one of the console surfaces. A thick layer of dust coated his finger. He wiped it on the leg of his pants. Percy thought he recognised the purpose of some of the devices in this room, but he would need to activate them to confirm that, and as friendly as she had been, he doubted Ithara would let him.

“I’d say this was a medical lab,” Percy answered. “One that hasn’t been used in quite a while.”

Ithara remained silent as Percy continued to make his way around the room. “How have you people managed to make up for the lack of sunlight?”

“Our nutritional paste provides us with all the nutrients we require,” Ithara answered.

Percy nodded and filed that information away to revisit later. “Can I ask why this room isn’t used?”

“These are the diagnostic machines of my ancestors.” Ithara shifted her weight from one foot to another.

That answer intrigued Percy. “You don’t know what they do?”

“No,” Ithara told him, unable to meet his gaze. “When our ancestors moved underground, they tried to pass their knowledge down through the generations. They tried, but somewhere along the way, we lost much of what we knew.”

“When my direct ancestors held the title of healer, it was something special. They could diagnose and cure diseases, and they could perform complex surgery. Today, I can set a broken bone, I can heal a cut, but that’s the limit of my capabilities. I’m not worthy of the title.”

Colour flooded Ithara’s cheeks, which stood out starkly on her pale skin. “My apologies. I’ve said too much.”

“I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for you,” Percy said softly. “To be a healer, but powerless to help your people in the face of The Wasting.”

“What do you know of The Wasting?” Ithara asked sharply.

“Just that it’s affecting your people,” Percy replied. “Alyra mentioned it during our audience with the Committee.”

Ithara looked at the ground, and her voice wobbled as she said, “It’s killing us.”

“How long have your people been suffering from The Wasting?”

“Generations.” Ithara studied his face silently for a few seconds. “You say you are a healer?”

“That’s right,” Percy replied, knowing where this was going.

As Percy expected, Ithara asked, “Could you help us find a cure for The Wasting?”

Yes, Percy wanted to tell her. He wanted to assure her that her people would not die and that he would help them. But he knew well enough that he was in a position to promise nothing. His suspicions about their condition weren’t quite as solid as they’d been, due to what he’d learned during his conversation with Ithara.

“I don’t know,” Percy told her. “My people have a strict policy of non-interference. We call it our Prime Directive. We could only offer our help if your leaders agreed. Even then, I can’t promise we would be able to help.”

Ithara sighed heavily and closed her eyes, as if Percy had just mercilessly snuffed out a momentary flicker of hope. He wanted to reach out to her, to say hell with the Prime Directive.  He wanted to give these people the help they needed, whether they asked for it or not. But that would probably be the end of his Starfleet career, he’d probably lose his medical license, and he’d never hear the end of it from his eldest brother, Alistair.

Ithara smiled sadly. “Well, if the decision were mine, I would request your help.”

“If it were up to me, I’d happily help,” Percy replied with a soft smile.

Just how advanced had their medical knowledge been? Percy wondered silently. If I could figure out how to read their language, I could use this equipment to diagnose them.

He knew this line of thinking was dangerous, but he didn’t care. He was in a position to help these people. Didn’t his duty as a physician supersede his duty to Starfleet?

After spending a further two hours with Ithara and her staff, learning as much as they could tell him about their biology, Percy was escorted back to their temporary accommodation. The scent of lavender and peppermint was a welcome change from the dampness of the tunnels. Commander Hayes was already there, sitting at the circular table.

“Doctor, did you learn anything about this Wasting that Alyra mentioned?” Hayes asked.

Percy shook his head slowly. “No, sir. These people lack the medical knowledge to diagnose the condition, much less treat it. I just know they believe they are dying from it, and I’m pretty sure they’re right.”

“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with these people?”

Not anymore, was the answer. Percy thought he knew what was wrong with these people, but doubts were creeping in after his conversation with Ithara.

“I thought I did,” Percy told Hayes. “But I’m not so sure now. The truth is, sir, that I can’t diagnose these people without access to the medical facility of the Challenger.”

Hayes looked up at Percy. “What was your diagnosis?”

“It wasn’t a diagnosis, it was a theory.”

A smile crossed Hayes’ lips. “Understood. What was your theory?”

“Everything I’ve observed,” Percy began. “The stooped posture, the dark circles around their eyes, the difficulty, even pain, in moving all suggest a single cause: vitamin D deficiency.”

Hayes tilted his head to the left and pursed his lips. “Vitamin deficiency?”

“I know it sounds simplistic,” Percy assured him. “But these people have been living underground for centuries. Without access to natural light, these people would begin to suffer from exactly the ailments we’re seeing.”

“What makes you doubt your theory?”

“Ithara mentioned they eat a nutritional paste, which provides all the nutrients they require,” Percy replied. “If that paste includes the vitamin D their bodies need, then lack of natural light would be irrelevant.”

“Nasty stuff,” the familiar drawl of Tanner echoed from the tunnel. He emerged with Yamada close behind.

“How do you know?” Percy asked, his brow furrowed.

Tanner sat heavily on one of the free table chairs. “My shadow offered me some. Looked like horse manure. Didn’t smell much better.”

“Nutritional paste,” Yamada echoed. “Doesn’t sound very appealing. What else is on the menu?” 

The smirk Tanner flashed at Percy made his face heat. “There ain’t nothin’ else on the menu. It’s that nutritional paste or go hungry.”

“What did you two find?” Hayes asked, looking between Tanner and Yamada.

Tanner spoke first. “I know how they incapacitated us and brought us down here.”

“Go on.” Hayes leaned closer.

“The weather control system that Kaedric talked about,” Tanner began. “Turns out they can control the intensity of the lightnin’, and they can target it. They can make it just strong enough to stun someone.”

Percy’s and Yamada’s eyes widened. Percy asked, “They stunned us…with lightning?”

“Yup,” Tanner replied. “And they have transporters, so all they had to do after that was beam us down here.”

Percy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They’d been struck by lightning? That Alyra’s people had used that lightning like a phaser? It didn’t seem plausible. But Tanner wouldn’t be reporting it to Commander Hayes like this if it weren’t true.

What effect did that have on the away team that he wasn’t aware of? If they wouldn’t return his tricorder, maybe he could convince Ithara to let him use her diagnostic equipment to make sure the lightning strike had no long-term effects on the team.

“That should make it easy for us to get back to the surface. We just need to find this transporter,” Hayes commented before turning to Yamada. “What about you?”

Lacing her fingers together, Yamada told them, “I know these people moved underground after some catastrophic incident with the atmospheric processors that allow them to control the weather irradiated the surface centuries ago.”

“Healer Ithara told me the same thing,” Percy added.

Hayes leaned on the table. “Other than the area around that ruined temple, radiation levels on the surface aren’t dangerous. Why haven’t they returned to the surface?”

“Because they don’t know radiation is at safe levels,” Yamada replied. “Their data still indicates that the levels of radiation on the surface are dangerously high.”

Hayes and Tanner glanced at one another, but whatever they were thinking they kept it to themselves for the moment.

“How’s that possible?” Percy asked.

With a shrug of her shoulders, Yamada told him, “I don’t know. But someone doesn’t want these people to know the truth.”

“Did you tell them?” Hayes watched Yamada expectantly for the answer to his question.

Yamada shook her head. “No, sir. I thought it was best to keep that information to myself for the time being.”

“Good.” Hayes nodded. He looked around his team. “It seems our attempts to learn more about these people have only raised more questions.” 

Hayes pushed his chair back and stood, “I think it’s time we met with the Committee again.”