The path was long and dusty. The chain around her neck tore badly and the fine sand between her skin and the metal chafed unmercifully. The sand was everywhere, even in the beggarly remains of her uniform and let to nasty open wounds.

For a week now they were on their way. The water which was given to her and the others captives was strictly rationed. They gave her just enough to keep her marching and prevent her from collapsing. Christine Chapel didn't even want to think about the character of what they gave her to eat. It was jerky, as tough as leather and from indefinable origin. She had to tear it with her teeth to split some fibers. It barely satisfied her hunger.

"The wounds will inflame." she thought anxiously and touched the open spots on her throat. A mixture of sweat and dirt were burning in them. She was despaired. She wouldn't be able to stand this strain much longer. That was for sure. The sun kept on shining pitiless. The barren, desert- like valley they crossed, bore no shadow. It was surrounded by just as barren mountains. On top of that the white rock faces amplified the reflections of the light which was thrown on the caravan.

She wondered how much longer it would take them to reach their destination – and what would happen when they finally arrived? Above her a whip cracked and disrupted her thoughts.

The guard yelled at her in partly unknown words. Amongst unfriendly hiss and click tones she could only identify fragments that made sense. Her universaltranslator had been damaged when the shuttle crashed. However even without the exact translation the command to keep going was unmistakable. The guard was a salty guy just like his subordinate. He built up right in front of Christine and dragged her aloft, towards him. His skin was pink like hers and he seemed almost human, if there hadn't been thousands of the most delicate capillaries that enlaced his skin like a fine spider's web. He was strong – unbelievably strong. The hair was dark as everybody else's was in the caravan. They all seemed to belong to the same species Christine mused. Her scientific curiosity had in spite of her current circumstances not died yet. She forced herself to stay alert and awake. It helped her fight against despair. The man stank of sweat like an animal. He grinned at her and revealed scruffy teeth. The sight made her shiver. They were smaller than those of humans – and much pointier. Most frightening however was the sheer amount of them in his foul-smelling mouth that was just a few inches away from her face. Her stomach turned and she began to choke involuntarily. It seemed to amuse him – anyway his gurgling noises sounded like a sneering laughter. Roughly he pulled on the long chain which connected her with about a dozen women of his kind and forced her to walk on. The eyes of the aliens were of such a light blue – they appeared to be almost white. It had to be an adaption to the desert. It made them look surreal and spooky.

Her fellow captives were in worse shape than she herself. Their long black hair was tangled and the simple clothes they wore were torn and in rags. None of them talked to her. Anyway they hardly made any noise at all. As if their will was totally broken they walked unresisting in a long line behind the guard and his henchman – all linked with each other through the iron chain like cracked gemstones in a jewelry.

At night when a provisional camp was set up the men sought out the women and humiliated them. Even then Christine couldn't hear them whine or moan. She only heard the men's disgusting grunting. The women kept silent. Christine thought that they had accepted their fate. They were just empty shells.

Regardless of her on own situation it broke her heart to observe it.

Christine came to the conclusion that her shuttle must have crashed. They had been on been on their way back from Panar 5 – an uninhibited planet full of resources and medically interesting flora where they had gathered botanical and microbiological interesting samples. On their way to the Enterprise an immense ion current had hit them out of the blue. The storm must have had them thrown far from their calculated route. They never made it to the rendezvous` coordinates. God only knew where this damned class M planet was located, which had caught them in his gravitational field and now held Christine Chapel captive. It could last weeks or months before the Enterprise had tracked her down- if at all. Where was the shuttle? She couldn't guess. She had woken up in this waste land when someone had given her water. Gratefully she took it. But soon enough her gratefulness for not dying of thirst gave way to blank horror. The aliens marveled over her, groped her pale skin and her bright blond hair. She was an oddity amongst them and before she could say knife she was absorbed by the caravan.

During the long march she did keep on looking for the shuttle or its remains but she couldn't find any trace far and wide. And then it hit her with full strength: SPOCK! They had been together on an away- mission. Where was he? Dead? Did he burn up in the shuttle or did he shatter on the surface? Had he been able to save himself? She wanted to believe in that, fervently. He must not be dead!

She had to stick this situation out, somehow, and if possible escape so that she could search for him. Together they would be able to install some kind of emitter which would transmit a signal to the Enterprise. Kirk would find them! She was sure about that. She just had to endure this and find Spock. As if they were a mantra, Christine mumbled these sentences to herself, again and again.

"You'll make it, Chris! You always have! Hang in there! Find Spock! It can't take long anymore!"

Her thoughts wandered back to the past six weeks on Panar5. They had spent them together. Christine didn't choose it this way that was for sure. Him and her alone on a long expedition... it was one of those situations which she absolutely wanted to avoid. She was painfully aware of the fact that her presence was a burden for the first officer and that he thought she was annoying or even importunate. But she had never given him a reason for that. She did behave as restrained as possible, after the events on Platonius more than ever. Bit by bit the tense atmosphere between the both of them had given way to an efficient method of operation. Both were professional enough to want to lead the mission to a successful conclusion. Their contact was strictly limited to duty – apart from that she kept out of his way. After the first week, Spock had come to terms with her insofar, that he was able to reduce his meditation to a Vulcan standard degree. Apparently he was no longer ridden by the fear she might throw herself to him any moment or that she would request something improper from him.

She - on the other hand - did enjoy his closeness nonetheless. Long ago she had given up on hoping that someday there could be something more between them. But her silent feelings, her admiration and her respect for him she wasn't able to switch off. There would never be a man who could bear a comparison with him. During the last 3 years the love for him became part of her nature regardless of the fact that he never would love her back.

Now she was alone- without the assurance that he had survived the crash. She crossed the desert, trance-like, always carrying her mantra on her lips. She wasn't going to give up!

During her first night the guard had also come to her. She had tried to fight him tooth and nail but the man had been like a rock. Her fist had bounced from his adamant chest without leaving an impression on him. He forced her down. Christine kicked and scratched him as hard as she could – to no perceptible effect. Her defense spurred him on even more. When he had laid on her and had begun to spread her legs she screamed. She was powerless against him. She prepared herself for him raping her. But it would only be her body. He would not possess her. Then, miraculously, he let go of her. Stunned he started to sniffle on her. First on her throat, then between her bare breasts and finally on her lap. Humiliated and disgusted she wriggled beneath him but he pressed her down with his body and held her with a vise like grip. So she had no other choice but to endure his sniffing. He stood up grinning. The moonlight sparkled on his pointy teeth. Unbelieving Christine realized that he was going to spare her however his features told neither of sympathy nor mercy. For some reason her smell had earned her a period of grace but the way he looked down on her with satisfaction made her shiver. What lay ahead would only be worse and she feared that grace would be of temporary nature.

After two more weeks full off breeding heat and biting cold nights in which she had learned to seek some warmth amongst the other women Christine Chapel thought she was hallucinating. In front of her at the foot of the distinct mountain range a luscious, green grove began to show. It was divided by a wide stream glistening in the sun. Behind it multi- leveled, flat houses arose – all of them whitewashed.

Bustle broke loose all over the caravan. Even the fatalistic women began to whisper quietly but full of excitement. There it was, finally, the long desired and also feared destination. After they had stepped through the broad and wooden town gate the guards pushed them forward through narrow alleys that quickly filled up with people gaping at the newly arrived. Mainly men or boys gathered at the wayside; Christine could only make out women sporadically. There was a lot of hustle about the group but the most attention was aimed at Christine. She felt stripped and naked in the rags of her uniform. At least her Starfleet insignia was still attached to it and she tried to gather courage from it.

She took a straight poise full of pride and strode amongst the others, her head held up high as if she were a guest of honor in a parade rather than a circus oddity creating commotion through her otherness.