Strickland was up before sunrise the next morning. He found a sleepy Malachi at the front desk, and talked him into getting access to a communications terminal. There was one in a side room just off the dining room. It took him a while to get a message to a friend of his on Mars, requesting shipment of some specific potted plants to a barracks on the Klingon homeworld. Next, he had to do some searching around for transit off the homeworld. He had to find a ship that would take them closer to their destination, but one that could be counted on for discretion. He was still running queries when he heard Harper awaken and come down the hallway. 

"Oh, you are an angel!" Harper said when she saw Malachi brewing a pot of coffee. 

Malachi beamed a wide smile. "Pinky's Place is renown for its coffee," he bragged. Harper gratefully accepted a thick ceramic cup filled with steaming coffee. She blew the steam off as she wandered over to a narrow window. Outside were short, green bushes and squat, gnarled trees, their branches twisted and dark. They looked familiar. 

"Are those... mesquite trees?" she asked. Malachi nodded. 

"They seem to like the soil," he said. "A little touch of Earth, right here on Q'onos. Those along the wall are Andorian catain bushes. They look like cranberry bushes from Earth, but grow better in this climate." 

Harper sipped her coffee. The house seemed to be surrounded by a waist-high hedge of catain bushes. Beyond that, as far as she could see, were tall, rusted hulks of metal. She recognized the outlines of what used to be ships. She went to another window, and saw more wreckage. McGovern appeared from his room, and walked towards the dining room. 

"David, look," she prompted. "We're in a garbage lot!" 

"I prefer to think of it as a graveyard of ships," Malachi said in a proud voice behind them. "Each one has a story." 

McGovern scanned the scene outside the windows. He leaned over to Harper. "It's probably the only place a human could buy land on Q'onos," he suggested. Harper went back to her room and pulled her tricorder out of a side pocket of her backpack. Everything registered normal. Radiation and toxic materials were still in the normal range. Just to be safe, she clipped the tricorder onto her hip before going back out. 

In the hallway, she almost walked right into Gordon, who was adjusting a sleeve on his uniform. "Oh, good morning," he said. "I see you found some coffee." 

"There's a fresh pot in the dining room," she pointed, very happy to see him. Malachi had prepared a plate of us'cha for his guests, human or otherwise. A sleepy Klingon, wearing what looked to be a black karate gi, wandered into the dining room. A female dressed in similar garb walked behind him. 

"Good morning!" said McGovern to the Klingons in a cheerful voice. "I'm Brigadier General David McGovern, Starfleet Marines, retired." 

The male suddenly woke up with a snarl, but relaxed as his eyes focused on McGovern. "I am Ru'Med," the tall Klingon said, "the new tactical officer on the Bird of Prey Vigilant. This is my mate, T'mal, environmental officer." The female cast dark, skeptical eyes at McGovern. 

"New tactical officer?" McGovern repeated. "A recent promotion?" 

"Yes," said Ru'Med, grabbing a handful of us'cha off the plate. 

"We ship back out as soon as repairs are completed," the female T'mal said," her voice impatient, her tone sharp. "That is why we must stay here, at this human latrine, because it is close to the ship." She snatched a handful of us'cha and began chewing on one with gnarled teeth. 

Harper stepped closer. McGovern turned and waved towards her. "This is retired Starfleet Admiral Francine Harper." The tall Klingon stopped chewing long enough to nod towards Harper. The female just kept eating. 

"Hello," Harper said. "What happened to your old tactical officer?" 

"Three days ago," Ru'Med said between bites, "Tactical Officer Do'gonit was transferred to another ship, effective when we made port. That made the position open. Two officers, Van'til and Magster, were first and second in line for the position, but they were killed in an accident before we returned to Q'onos." 

"An accident?" said Harper. "What happened?" She set down her cup of coffee. 

"There was a gas leak in the armory section, right next to T'mal's section," Ru'Med said, pointing to his mate. "She found their bodies." 

"They died serving the Empire," T'mal said with a stoic face. "It was an honorable death." 

"They were good warriors," Ru'Med said. "I was next in line after the two of them. I honor their memory by accepting the promotion." 

"Well, despite the circumstances, congratulations on your promotion," Harper said, raising her cup. Ru'Med once again nodded politely. The two Klingons turned without another word and went back out the way they came in. 

"Well," said Harper, "we've met the neighbors." 

Gordon looked at the empty doorway. "Friendly bunch," he said. 

Strickland picked up a plate and started filling it with us'cha."It's a good thing Klingons respect both authority and age, Dave-– otherwise, they might not've talked to you at all." 

"Were those Klingon jammies?" McGovern asked. The four sat together at one of the picnic tables, Strickland and Harper on one side, McGovern and Gordon on the other. 

"Don't call them jammies," warned Strickland. "There's an official name for them, like klakka-zakka or something like that. I forget." He pulled out his PADD and laid it on the table. Changing the subject, he said, "I found us a ride offworld, but it'll be a few days before they take off." 

"Not a problem," said McGovern, taking a bite of us'cha. The meaty filling was hot and spicy. 

"In the meantime, I found us the perfect training ground." Strickland pressed a corner of the PADD, and the screen lit up with a building. It was in ruins, but was once constructed of large, stone blocks. The picture showed it at the peak of an outcropping of rock. 

"That looks important," Gordon commented. 

Strickland pointed. "Boys and girls, this is Gro'tara: the Temple of a Million Steps." 

"I heard about this place," McGovern said, leaning over for a closer look at the image. "They just discovered it a few years ago." 

Strickland nodded. "They've been excavating it ever since. Archaeologists have dated it to the Zanxthkolt Dynasty. Apparently, it got buried and forgotten during the Hur'q Conquest, about a thousand years ago. The interesting thing about the temple isn't the temple itself, but what's around it." He changed the image, which started a slide show of different stairways. "Gro'tara is on top of a mountain about twenty klicks from here. All over the mountain are stone steps leading to the top." 

"Hence the name of the place," Harper interjected. 

"Exactly," said Strickland. "The Temple of a Million Steps. They've actually only excavated about ten thousand steps, but it's all very impressive. They keep finding new stair steps buried all the time." 

Harper leaned back with a dubious expression on her face. "You expect us to climb that?" 

"It's not that high," Strickland explained. "It's a day trip. And we don't have to climb all ten thousand steps." 

"It's perfect," said McGovern. "It'll build up our leg muscles, build our stamina, get us used to climbing..." 

"And," added Gordon, "it's in a safe, controlled environment." Gordon was thinking of the proximity of emergency facilities, but he said nothing out loud. 

"When do we get started?" McGovern asked. 

"I got Malachi to call for a lorry. It'll pick us up in an hour," Strickland said, turning off the image on his PADD. 

"An hour?" asked Gordon, checking the time. "I'd better get out my hiking boots." He rose to leave. McGovern turned to Strickland. "How much longer are we going to be on the homeworld? When's our departure time?" 

"That was one of the messages I got-- I just confirmed our ride," Strickland said, pointing back towards the computer room. "We'll be heading out for Klendar the day after tomorrow on the transport Jonathon Jennings, run by a lady captain named Garrett." 

"Sounds good to me." McGovern held up an us'cha. "We should pack a lunch. Do these things keep?" 

Malachi had the foresight to pack a lunch for them. It was a small package of bread, with some cheese and an envelope of something jerky. McGovern did not ask. Instead, he joined Gordon at the open storage trunk and found their water canteens. Strickland pulled out a grey vest and handed it to Gordon. "Here," he said, "Wear this over your uniform." 

"Okay," said Gordon, taking the vest, "But why...?" 

"Because we're keeping a low profile here," he explained. "That uniform kinda stands out." Gordon wore his medical kit on his side, the shoulder strap strung across his chest. 

The sun was well in the sky when they walked out onto the broad porch of Pinky's Place. In the daylight, the hostel was an oasis of green in a sea of rusting metal. Harper walked along slowly, scanning the wreckage around them, looking for any lingering toxins. 

"I'm sure it's safe, Frannie," McGovern said, walking behind her. "This place has been here for years." 

"Lots of dangerous places have been around for years," Harper replied. "That doesn't make them less dangerous." Gordon kept sneaking glances at the tricorder readouts. He was concerned, as well. 

To the east, the sun was bright, but a haze to the north predicted an oncoming storm. To the west, the sky was dark with smoke belching from factory chimneys. They got to the road. Off to the side was a sign they'd missed in the dark: "Pinky's Place." The ground was dark, oily and lifeless. Strickland sniffed the air. 

"There it is again," he said. "You smell it?" 

McGovern nodded. "Bacon. Is somebody cooking bacon around here?" 

A rusty, pale green minibus clattered up to them and pulled off to the side of the road, the smell of burning oil rushing past them. A human leaned out the driver's window. "Somebody here named Strickland?" he called out. 

Strickland raised his hand. "Right here. We're needing a ride to the Gro'tara Temple." 

"Hop in," the human said. The doors of the minibus opened with loud metal creaks. Inside, the seats were dusty and torn. Papers and empty containers littered the floor. Harper moved some trash out of her way with her foot. "Just kick that stuff out," the driver said. Harper did not. There were two rows of passenger seats in the minibus. McGovern and Strickland took the back seat, while Harper and Gordon sat directly behind the driver. When Gordon pulled the door closed behind them, it slammed with loud bang, and felt like it might fall off. 

"Here we go," said the driver. The minibus took off down the dusty road, managing to bounce over every rock and chughole the driver could find. 

Harper turned to look behind her. "I've been to Q'onos before, but this isn't how I remember it. We always went directly to the middle of the big cities. It was always... cleaner." 

"That's what the Klingons like to show the rest of the universe,"  Strickland said. He had to speak up over the racket of the minibus engine. "But the infrastructure for all that has to come from somewhere. Not a lot of visitors get to see this side of the homeworld." 

"Lucky us," said McGovern. 

Gordon pointed out a window. "There's the spaceport." A swarm of ships were floating over the horizon. One ship made a bright flare as it lifted off from the ground. When Gordon's hand touched the window, it came back with grime on his fingertips. 

Huge, hulking trucks passed them on the road. A large factory appeared on the right: high, dark walls rose above them, and a deafening pneumatic noise filled the air. "That's one of the atmosphere reprocessing plants!" Strickland yelled over the din. "After Praxis tore up their ozone layer, dozens of these were built all over the planet to rebuild their atmosphere!" A dozen humans in grimy overalls were lined up alongside the road waiting to enter the factory. 

The loud factory behind them, the minibus turned down a narrow road lined with scrubby little trees. Limp, purple leaves hung from the stunted branches. Far off to the left, a rows of four-story buildings lined up beside the road. "Apartment blocks," Strickland explained. Buildings began to thin out as they got further away from the industrial centers. Farmland appeared on either side of the road. Tiny houses made from used shipping containers popped up between the rows of crops, humans and Klingons alike out working the fields. The air seemed to get cleaner. 

Gordon pulled out his medical tricorder and pointed it at Harper. "Hold still and breathe normally," he said. 

"What are you doing?" she asked. 

"I want to do an assessment of everyone's physical condition," Gordon explained. "I need to do a health scan of everybody before we start. I'll scan us all at the top, and again when we get back to the bottom. That way, I can compare how we did." 

"And see if we're up to climbing the big one on Concordia," McGovern deduced. 

The minibus topped a small hill, and a pointed shape appeared on the horizon ahead. Traffic increased, and trees alongside the road began to get taller. Tree branches hung over the roadway as they approached a wide parking lot. There were vehicles in front of them and behind them as they lined up on the road. 

"I'm just gonna drop you off at the base station," the driver said over his shoulder. "The path will take you to the Stedmahl Steps. After that, just keep going uphill to the temple." 

"How do we get back to the hostel?" Harper asked. 

"I'll be back here at sunset," the driver replied. He pointed off to some ruins on his right. "See that old stone turret over there? That's where I'll be." He pulled the minivan up to a curb and brought it to a stop. The engine rattled and chugged as it idled. Gordon opened the door, and the four travelers piled out onto the sidewalk. There were a dozen Klingons in long robes standing near the entrance to the path. Two humans with brooms were sweeping the sidewalk. A breeze blew through the trees, making the purple leaves whistle and dance. 

McGovern sniffed the air as he stood on the sidewalk. "There it is again! Where's that bacon smell coming from?" 

"Oh, that's the trees," the driver said, pointing up. "Klingon trees all smell like bacon." 

"What?" said Harper, not sure she heard correctly. Strickland slammed the minivan door shut with a bang. He patted the side of the vehicle with his hand. 

"See you at sunset," he said. The driver waved, and the minivan drove away, foul smoke belching out the back end. Gordon coughed at the smoke. He carried the sack with their lunch and slung it over his shoulder. Each carried a canteen. 

‘Who are they?" Harper asked, pointing to the robed Klingons. 

"Pilgrims," Strickland said. "Klingons are a lot more aesthetic than most folks give them credit for. Climbing the temple steps is kind of a pilgrimage for them. Gro'tara was a spiritual center when it was originally built. Of course, these guys are out to climb all of them." 

"All the steps?" said Gordon. "That's a lot of walking." 

"How much walking are we doing today, Warren?" McGovern asked. 

"About ten kilometers," Strickland said. "Not much of a hike, by your standards, I bet, Dave. Still, most of it will be going uphill." 

"You lead the way, Warren," McGovern said to Strickland. "You seem to know the land better than us." 

"This way." Strickland led them between two tall rocks and down a wooded path. The leaves whistled in the wind above them. As they turned a corner, the trees thinned out, and they could see the whole mountainside. A line of round stones followed the path from the trees to the mountain. Stone steps led up from the path, higher and higher up the side of the mountain. Higher up the slope, they could see additional paths of steps leading to the summit, sometimes cris-crossing as they wound their way upwards. Gordon squinted, and could see tiny people slowly working their way up the steps. To Harper, the multiple paths seemed to cascade from the top in a fountain of stone, flowing down the mountainside. McGovern saw the defensive advantages to such a design, something that may or may not have been intentional. The Temple itself was hidden behind the crest of the summit. 

"That's amazing," Harper commented. She pulled her tricorder off her belt and ran a scan of the visible area. 

"These are the Stedmahl Steps," Strickland explained. "I read about them this morning. These will take us up to the First Circuit, which goes all the way around the mountain. There's a Circuit at regular elevations all the way up the mountain. We'll take different steps to the Second, Third and Fourth Circuits before making our ascent to the temple at the top." 

"Sounds good," said Harper. 

"Let's saddle up and move out!" McGovern said. 

Strickland waved his hand towards the first steps. "Ladies first," he said at Harper. She rolled her eyes, stepped past him and started climbing. Strickland followed, then McGovern, then Gordon following up the rear; he checked the time before hitting the steps. 

The trail to the First Circuit was not too strenuous. The Stendahl Steps were ancient cut blocks of stone set into the earth. The steps were fairly uniform in height, about the length of a human hand, and comfortably deep. They took a leisurely pace, one which gave them a chance to look around. The land around the mountain was much more appealing than the grim landscape surrounding the hostel. 

They got to the First Circuit in about twenty minutes. There, they found a dusty path leading off to the left and right wide enough for a truck. Broken, half-buried fragments of brick walls protruded from the hillside. Further down, however, they could see where it drastically narrowed. Klingons in robes could be seen navigating the narrow trail. Gordon caught up to the others at the landing, where everyone was catching their breath. "That wasn't so bad," Harper said. It had been a brisk but invigorating climb. From their vantage point, they could just see over the tops of the trees they passed under at the base of the mountain. 

Gordon checked his medical bag. His instruments were scanning the others flawlessly, with no alarms going off. He was pleased with their progress. "This way," said Strickland, motioning to the right. "We take the Mota'q Steps next-- they should be over this way." 

"That's not the quickest way to the top," Harper said. She had her tricorder in her hand. 

"How do you know?" Strickland asked. 

"I programmed my tricorder to scan the area, and calculate the most efficient route to the summit," she explained. "According to my calculations, the quickest way to the top is over that way." She pointed to the left. 

"Frannie," said Strickland slowly, "I researched this very carefully. This is the way we need to go." 

"And I say we need to go that way," Harper insisted. "This is what we'll have to use when we get to Concordia, so we should test it out." 

"You can test your little toy someplace else," Strickland said. "I don't want anybody getting lost." 

"I don't get lost," Harper said, lifting her chin in defiance. "I never get lost." 

"Look, look," said McGovern, looking at the time, "all roads lead to the same place. Frannie, you and Charlie take your route, and I'll go with Warren this way. We'll all meet at the top. We'll make it a race, how's about that?" 

"Fine!" said Harper. 

"Fine!" said Strickland. Both turned on their heels and took off in opposite directions. Gordon and McGovern had to hurry to catch up with them. Gordon looked back at the other two, and then at his instruments, which were losing contact with Strickland and McGovern. So much for monitoring progress, he thought. 

Harper walked directly down the path, around a large rock, and straight to a narrow set of stone steps hidden behind some bushes. The steps shot up a narrow crevice in the side of the mountain. "See, it works!" she declared, clipping the tricorder back onto her belt. Most of the steps were uneven flat stones, wedged into the narrow space. They ascended quickly, preoccupied with watching their next step. Thirty steps up, they ended up on a narrow ledge barely wide enough for one person to walk. Stubborn blades of grass poked from cracks in the rock. This ledge led directly to another set of steps that curved away into the side of the rock. 

"Shouldn't we be at the Second Circuit by now?" Gordon asked. Harper checked her tricorder again. 

"Should be up there," she pointed. The next set of steps were even narrower than the last. They had to climb with one foot directly in front of the other. Suddenly, they emerged from a stone crack onto a wide, encircling path. The Second Circuit. 

"Here we are," Gordon said. He pulled out his canteen, which he'd clipped to his bag strap. "We should hydrate ourselves." 

"Good idea," said Harper. They both took drinks, then took a moment to look around. The view was tremendous. They could see beyond the trees, and the road they traveled that morning stretched out into the distance. Far away, they could see the swarming dots of the spaceport. Gordon calculated their position in his head. 

"The hostel should be right over... there," he pointed. He turned around to see Harper checking with her tricorder. 

"You're right!" she smiled. She took in the view... but then, her smile faded. 

"What's the matter?" Gordon asked. 

"I screwed up," she said, staring down at her tricorder hung off her belt. "I was so anxious to test out my program I forgot the whole point of this climb: to train for the big climb." She looked up, a little embarrassed. "We're not supposed to be racing to the top. We're supposed to be giving our bodies a workout, building up our muscles." Harper sighed. "I let my ego get ahead of me." 

"No harm done," Gordon said, clipping his canteen back to his shoulder strap. "We can just catch up with the others. Think your tricorder could find them on this mountain?" 

Harper smiled. "No problem." She opened up her tricorder and set it to scan for life signs. Filtering out the vegetation, the device found several dozen beings on the mountain. "This must be a very popular place," Harper commented. The scan revealed Klingons, humans and at least two other species across various stages of the mountain. 

"Filter out everyone but the humans," Gordon suggested. Harper did so, then frowned. 

"That still leaves nineteen humans," she reported. 

"There sure seems to be a lot of humans on the Klingon homeworld," Gordon said. "More than I would've imagined." Sunbeams poked out from behind low-lying clouds, and spotlighted fields of crops far below. The smell of bacon was almost dissipated at that height. 

"Got them!" Harper announced. "They're just around that bend over there," she pointed. "Coming up to the Second Circuit." 

"So, your program worked– your route was faster," Gordon said. Harper clipped her tricorder back onto her belt as they began walking. 

"I suppose it was," she smiled proudly– and almost walked right into a Klingon in brown robes. He was coming down from the Circuit path and they did not see him coming. The robed Klingon carried a metal cylinder in his hands. He came to a stop, and waited for Gordon and Harper to flatted against the rock wall to give him room. Without a word, the Klingon slipped past them and down the stone steps they had just climbed. 

"I wonder what that was about?" Harper wondered. As they climbed, they looked back and could see the robed Klingon standing on a ledge below them. He twisted open the lid of the container, and poured the contents out over the edge. A cloud of dusty ash hung in the air for moment before being carried away by the wind. Harper and Gordon continued their climb. 

The path ahead narrowed as it went around a corner, and a sheer drop fell away just centimeters from their feet. Gordon's heart was pounding as they rounded the corner. A few meters beyond the curve, they heard familiar voices. 

"I thought you knew the way!" 

"I do know the way!" 

Strickland and McGovern were standing toe-to-toe on the narrow path, each pointing in opposite directions. They stood in the shade of a huge rock, which hung precariously over the path. 

"Gentlemen," announced Harper as they joined the discussion. "What seems to be the problem?" 

Both men straightened up. "No problem," said Strickland. 

"I think they designed this mountain to drive people crazy," McGovern commented. He pointed back the way they came. "The steps all lead up, except the ones that lead to dead-ends. Then you have to go back down and backtrack." 

"Well," said Harper, "You were wanting some exercise." McGovern made a sour face. She checked her tricorder again. Gordon was taking in the view. They had come around the other side of the mountain, out of view of the spaceport. A range of jagged mountains swept off to the north. A human female in overalls walked past with a small bag, picking up trash as she went. 

"More humans," Gordon said, watching the female janitor. Another human pushing a wheelbarrow full of rocks greeted the janitor on his way around a bend. "I can't believe there's this many humans on the Klingon homeworld." 

"Humans make up a big chunk of the work force on Q'onos," Strickland explained. Harper pointed off to their right. 

"There's a series of steps over here leading up to the Third Circuit," she said, leading the way. The others started following her. 

"Remember that atmosphere reprocessing plant we passed on the way here?" Strickland continued. "After Praxis exploded, everyone thought the planet needed to be evacuated. That's what the whole Khitomer Conference was about. But a bunch of Federation terraforming scientists came up with a plan to rebuild the planet's atmosphere. The process took years." 

They found the next set of stone steps. Harper led the way upwards. Here, the steps were cut into the bedrock. They were much steeper, and the ascent slowed considerably. Halfway up, all four of the climbers were panting for air. The next landing could not come soon enough. As Gordon topped the stairway, he could see Strickland bent over, his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Gordon pulled out his medical tricorder and began to run a scan. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he insisted as he heard the instrument start up. 

"Yes, you are," Gordon reported after checking his readings. "Still, this would be a good place to take a break." They had made it to the Third Circuit. The path was much wider at this point, with several Klingons in robes and battle armor passing them in both directions. There was even the remains of an ancient stone wall along the edge of the trail. McGovern took a swig of water from his canteen and spat it out before drinking. 

"We're halfway there," McGovern announced. 

Gordon's eye followed the stone wall, which led around the side of the mountain to a sheer rock face. There, the trail led to a small tunnel. A human in overalls was sweeping up with a broom. "The humans here aren't like the Downam on Tellar Prime, are they?" Gordon asked. 

"Oh, no," said Strickland, unscrewing the cap off his canteen. "Klingons recognize the humans that live here perform a valuable service." 

"If it wasn't for humans," McGovern interjected, "the Klingons themselves would have to do all the crap work, right?" 

Strickland grudgingly nodded yes. He pointed to the humans sweeping up the trail. "Cleaning up garbage all day doesn't give them much time to pursue honor," he explained. "The human workers are paid well and are taken care of. It works out for everybody." 

Harper looked at the angle of the sunbeams poking their way through the shifting clouds. "It's getting close to noon," she figured. "We should be moving." 

The trails became more crowded the closer they got to the top. The steps became steeper, too. By the time they topped the Fourth Circuit, the trail was almost standing-room only. Several Klingons in robes were standing quietly along the rock wall, and seemed to be meditating. Strickland put his finger in front of his mouth to indicate silence as they passed. The ascent to the Fifth Circuit was more of a ladder cut into the face of the mountain than a stairway. The four were crawling up the rock when they made it to the landing. 

They stood at a section of flat rock, and a gust of wind emphasized how high they had climbed. Mountain tops surrounded them, and at that point the mountain seemed much smaller. The view was tremendous. There was only a small rise between them and the ruins of the Temple. "This way," said Gordon. They clambered over a small shoulder of rock, and they were on the summit. 

The Temple of Gro'tara was a one-story stone building, about the size of a one-bedroom house. It had a peaked tile roof. The huge grey stones were set without mortar. Wind gusted through the open windows. The doorway was a high square arch. Inside, the Temple was bare. No ornaments, no statues, no murals on the walls, no glass in the windows. Burn scorches on the hard stone floor were the only decoration. 

"Wow," said Gordon. The four were alone inside the structure. Above, the thick, wooden beams of the roof seemed immeasurably old. It seemed to be a desperately lonely place... Yet, in its simplicity, there was also a quiet elegance to the structure. 

"So," said McGovern, his voice suddenly breaking the silence. "What's for lunch?" 

They left the Temple, and climbed down to the Fifth Circuit. Remnants of stone structures were everywhere on the summit. At one point, Harper figured, there was a complex of several buildings alongside the Temple. Only the outlines of foundations remained. Finding a quiet corner out of the wind, they broke out the bread and cheeses. "I didn't realize how hungry I was," Harper admitted, cutting a slice of cheese with a small knife. 

"Hunger and thirst can sneak up on you in the field," McGovern said. "It's easy to get distracted and lose track of the important things." 

Strickland pointed to Gordon's medical scanner. "So, how are we doing?" 

"Remarkably well," Gordon admitted. "I ran a scan as we were coming out of the Temple. Everyone's heart and respiratory rates are within normal parameters. If anything, I'm the one that's the most fatigued around here." 

"Well," said McGovern, patting him on the shoulder, "we'll try to slow down for you." Everyone laughed at that. 

The jerky was tough but tasty. Harper had to wash it down with some water. She screwed the cap back onto her canteen and said, "Let's take a different route back down. So we can see more." 

"Why not?" asked Strickland. He looked at the view, which stretched off to the hazy horizon. "It's peaceful up here. I should've brought a camera." 

"We can probably pick one up in First City," Harper suggested. "It wouldn't be a bad idea to have one along." 

McGovern pulled himself up to stand on the cold stone. "Better get started." 

There were five paths from the Fourth Circuit up to the summit. As it happened, they had chosen the toughest path. A few minutes of exploring found a comfortable stairway cut out of the solid rock leading down to the Fourth Circuit. The only distraction was the thousand-meter sheer drop off the side of the steps. The bottom of the steps ended at a tunnel cut into the stone. The surrounding stone walls inside the tunnel offered no comfort as they descended. The steps were very steep at that point, and one false move could send them all  tumbling into the darkness. They emerged on a wide, flat landing which looked very familiar. A ruined stone wall extended off to the left. 

"We made it to the Third Circuit," Gordon said. "We skipped the Fourth all together." 

"Son of a gun," said McGovern. "We found a shortcut." From that angle, they could see how one set of steps had been supported by stone slabs lifted into place in ages past. A line of robed Klingons were making their way up the steps above them. 

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived back at the base of the mountain. "It's good to get back on flat ground again," Harper commented. "How does everyone feel?" 

Gordon waved that he was fine. McGovern gave a thumbs-up. "I feel good," said Strickland. "That was a brisk climb." 

"Um," said Gordon, looking around, "I don't think this is the trail we came in on." They all looked around. There were no round stones leading away from the steps. Instead, the ground was littered with smaller stones, the remains of a small landslide. The two tall rocks they had passed between on their way to the Stendahl Steps were nowhere in sight. The trees, smelling more like bacon than ever, were much closer and thicker than they remembered. 

"Uh oh," said McGovern. "I think we took a wrong turn somewhere. I don't see the road or anything familiar." 

Harper pulled out her tricorder and ran a scan. "Well, the bad news is that we're not where we started. The good news is that we can just go back up to the First Circuit and work our way back around..." Her voice trailed off when she saw Strickland's eyes focusing on something. She followed his gaze, and saw three young human males emerging from the woods. Their hair was dirty and matted. Their faces were dark with beard stubble. They were dressed in old clothes and carried big clubs. 

"Aww, too bad, Harold," one was saying. "Did you hear that? These poor folks took a wrong turn somewhere." The one called Harold walked close to McGovern. 

"Isn't it a little late to be out hiking, grandpa?" 

"Just passing through, boys," said McGovern, stepping to his left. It put him between the youths and the travelers. "Now, if you'll excuse us–-" 

The one called Harold lifted his club and laid the end on McGovern's chest. "Not so fast, grandpa!" he said with a grin. "You being newcomers to these parts, it would be rude of us to not show you the sights. Show you the local attractions. Right, boys?" The other two lined up on his right, smiling and swinging their clubs. "Naturally, we'll wanna be compensated for our efforts..." 

McGovern slowly looked over his shoulder, to mark where the others were standing. Gordon looked anxious, Harper looked pensive, and Strickland was eyeing the steps behind them. Too far to run, he decided. McGovern sighed, and looked at the one called Harold with a calm, almost sad expression. 

"Pretty day, isn't it?" he asked. As Harold started to answer, McGovern slapped the club out of the way, pivoting on one heel. As he turned, he lifted his leg and pounded his heel hard into Harold's kneecap. Gordon could hear it break from ten paces away. As Harold went down, McGovern caught his club and brought it up over his head, blocking a strike by the second young man. McGovern took a step, and then kicked the second man hard in the groin. As he bent over, McGovern brought his club down hard on the young man's head. He went down, but the remaining youth rushed at McGovern, club raised to strike. There was no time to block the strike. Just then, a fist-sized rock slammed into the youth's face, knocking him backwards. McGovern glanced back to see the others had scooped up arm loads of rocks and were pelting their attackers. 

The third one had his hand on his face, blood gushing from between his fingers, as he helped the second one up to his feet. The others stopped their barrage long enough for the attackers to pick up Harold, who was groaning from the pain, his face pale and sweaty. Just then, a fourth figure appeared out of the trees. He was a human, tall and tanned, with thick muscles and shoulder-length hair. He carried a long, large-bladed axe, and looked very unhappy. 

McGovern looked over his shoulder at Gordon. "Get everyone back up the trail," he whispered. 

"No way," said Gordon, shaking his head. 

"We are not leaving you alone!" Harper whispered back. The lumberjack growled, showing cracked, dirty teeth, and came forward swinging his axe. McGovern stood his ground, and was taking a better grip on the club when an energy beam shot across the small clearing. The grass in front of the lumberjack suddenly erupted in flame. Everyone froze where they were standing. 

"Hold it right there!" came an order from behind the travelers. A figure came down the steps. Stepping between the travelers, she was dressed in black boots, Klingon battle armor and carrying a disruptor pistol. Her blonde hair was cut short, and stood up like the bristles of a brush on her round, very human head. "Drop the axe!" she ordered. The lumberjack dropped the tool, and it landed with a heavy sound. 

The newcomer turned slightly, her blue eyes flashing in the late afternoon sun. "You folks all right?" 

"Yeah, we're okay," McGovern replied. 

"I'm Major Betty Newton, Klingon Defense Force, Human Legion. You're safe now." 

"They came at us with clubs," Gordon said. The human in Klingon armor nodded quietly. 

"I know," she said. "We've had a lot of problems lately with tourists getting hassled by this lot. You four line up over there right now." The one called Harold moaned and whimpered as his friends carried him along. "What happened to him?" Major Newton asked. 

"He came at me," said McGovern, "so I broke his kneecap." 

"Really?" said Newton, looking over the grey-haired general. "Good. That'll make it harder for him to run away from now on." Newton pulled some plastic straps from a pocket on her belt. She tossed the straps at the four standing in the grass, keeping her disruptor leveled at them. "You guys have a seat over here, and put these on, and put them on tight! We're gonna go for a little walk." The robbers handled the straps like they were already familiar with them. They looped each strap around their wrists and clipped the ends together. Automatically, the straps contracted until each formed a tight, unbreakable restraint. It was only when the robbers were properly leashed that Harper found her voice. 

"The Human Legion," she repeated. "I've heard of that. You only operate on the surface of Q'onos, don't you?" 

"Yes, ma'am," Newton answered. She holstered her weapon. "Humans protecting humans, that's our job." McGovern extended one hand. 

"I'm Brigadier General David McGovern, Starfleet Marines, retired," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you. And thanks." The two shook hands. 

"General McGovern. That explains a lot." Newton looked over her shoulder towards the empty woods. "Roza! Come meet the general!" From behind a tree, another human in Klingon armor suddenly appeared from nowhere. He was tall and slender, with olive skin and shiny black hair. He holstered his weapon as he approached. 

McGovern nodded in approval. "Backup. It never hurts to have backup." Gordon stepped forward and caught Newton's eye. 

"I'm a doctor," he said, and pointed to Harold. "I should look at his knee." 

"All right," said Newton warily. "Just be careful. If you can get him walking again, I'd appreciate it." Newton approached the four young men sitting on the ground, her hand on her holstered disruptor. "The doctor here is gonna check out your friend. Anybody that tries anything... dies. Understood?" 

The four lowered their faces; they understood. 

The man in battle armor approached the travelers. "I'm Corporal Roza. It's a good thing we were doing a patrol of the First Circuit when we saw you go down that trail. They don't mark off the dead-ends like they should. Although," he continued, looking at the humbled prisoners, "I think you would've been all right anyway." 

"Who are they?" Strickland asked. 

"Vagabonds. Lazy drunks. As if there aren't enough jobs to go around on this planet." Roza cast a resentful eye on the youths. 

Gordon finished his scan. "Well, it's broken. Your kneecap is broken right in half." He pulled out a hypospray and adjusted the settings. "I'm gonna give you something for the pain, but you're going to need a hospital soon." The hypospray hissed as it was applied to his leg, but Harold's body immediately relaxed, and he stopped moaning. 

"He'll get plenty of attention where he's going," Newton said. "All right, everybody up." The four youths stood, Harold on wobbly legs. "Which one of you is the leader?" 

Harold looked around to see the others all pointing at him. "Oh, great. Thanks," Harold said, ungratefully. 

Newton looked at McGovern. "You folks can follow us out to the highway," she said. Newton then looked at the lumberjack. "You. Big guy. Help your friend out," she said, pointing at Harold. Shee then addressed the others, her weapon drawn by held at her side. "You two follow behind them. Anybody gets any bright ideas, it'll be the last idea you ever have. Roza, take the point." 

Roza drew his weapon and took off up the stone steps. The lumberjack followed the hopping Harold until the first step, then took his arm to help him walk. The other two followed humbly behind. With Major Newton leading them, the four travelers made their way back up to the First Circuit. That was where everyone made introductions with each other. 

"Wow, a real Starfleet admiral," said Newton to Harper. "I'm impressed, ma'am. You folks are a long way from home." 

"Yeah," said Strickland, "We're seeing the sights, you know?" Newton looked like she was thinking about something. Something shiny caught her attention. Gordon's vest had opened, and she could see his Starfleet communicator badge on his chest. 

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" the major said. She walked over to Roza, who was watching the prisoners. Newton leaned forward, and spoke in low tones. "This bunch is a lot more high profile than they look. I'm gonna ride back to their hostel with them. They're on our watch now, and I wanna make sure nothing else happens. You got this party under control?" Roza nodded in understanding. 

"No problem, ma'am," Roza said. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the motley prisoners. "These guys won't be any trouble at all." The big lumberjack even flinched from his steely gaze. 

"Pick me up at their hostel when you're done processing." 

"Will do, ma'am." 

Newton slapped Roza's arm and returned to the travelers. "If you folks don't mind, I'm gonna ride back with you." 

"Not at all," said Harper. "If you can show us the quickest way back." Newton smiled. 

"The Stendahl Steps are about fifty meters that way," she said, pointing towards the left. "Follow me." 

The sun was getting low in the sky when they made it to the twin stones. The path was practically empty when they made it to their rendezvous point.