The last time Salan had set foot on the planet Elas was in 2371, as an Ensign aboard the USS Farragut. At the time, a deadly virus had broken out, affecting a number of villages situated along the southern half of a large Island just off the main continent.  Several locals had already died, others lay sick, and those that cared for them were putting their lives at risk by simply being in close proximity for extended periods of time.  If it spread to the mainland, countless more lives could be lost.

He was one of five crew members, beamed down to a clearing just outside the settlement of Ridaar.  With them the medical supplies, which everyone hoped would slow the spread of the as yet unnamed virus, whilst the doctors set about finding a cure.

They’d waited a few moments until a doctor arrived with a pair of locals to help carry the supplies to a small barn which was being used as a makeshift clinic.  The equipment inside rudimentary and mostly secondhand, but it did the job, and that was all that mattered to those living in and around Ridaar.

Salan recalled the woman who’d approached them; she was regarded as ‘Oockoolo’ by the locals; a Shaman, Seer and healer.  She was very much at odd with the doctors and all their modern technology, preferring the traditional ways that her family had used for generations.  But Jia, as her name was; understood the changing times and like anyone else, didn’t want to see so many die, so she begrudgingly let the doctors work their own form of miracles; whilst she continued hers.  Jia even blessed their equipment as a sign that any of the more skeptical people in the area could trust it and the doctors using them.

Elas which had developed faster than light technology more than 80 years ago, still clung on to many of their ancient beliefs.  Then again his home world wasn’t that much different in some aspects; the old and new had found a way to co-exist happily.  So it was logical to assume other races would also find a way to do so.  It was one of his reasons for joining Starfleet; a curiosity for other cultures and civilizations, shared by his mother, who’d spent a number of years aboard a Vulcan Science vessel.

It was at the barn that Jia’s path crossed with the away team.  She was tall and slim, close to 2 meters making her taller than anyone else around, and walking with a grace that almost gave the impression she was floating across the floor, her long simple dress which brushed against the ground adding to that illusion.   She looked to be in her late 40’s, but little of her face and body was uncovered to give any real idea of what she was like.

He had not personally witnessed the first encounter; the details were relayed to him by the two members of the team involved.  She had given them a prediction of their futures and how they would come to die; though it was more a set of interwoven clues, rather than concrete information.  How it had come about, they never exactly explained.

Salan remembered telling them it was illogical to believe this woman knew their fate.  They convinced him to get Jia to predict his future; and he’d only agreed just to humour them and possibly out of his own curiosity.

He remembered clearly the words she’d spoke to him about what he’d assumed was to be his own death. ‘Let the river take you to the land of kings, and when two moons become three look to the mirror for the God of Death is beckoning you aboard for the last journey in this realm. Beyond these stars the forge of the Faceless ones awaits to create you anew. And you will become their destroyer’

As a Vulcan he was far less concerned by his impending fate than his colleagues appeared to be about theirs; meeting that woman seemed to change them ever so slightly, as if her words truly had sealed their destiny.  However the clues to the eventual fate of the Farragut she’d given, seemed unerringly accurate when the reports of the ships lose had reached him whilst onboard the USS Fairfax roughly two years after the encounter.

The loose of the USS Farragut and its crew, many of which he’d served with during his 3 years onboard, had a deep effect on Salan, one that went against logic and the way he’d been brought up, and he’d found it hard to rationalise it.

So was he here to put old demons to rest, or to find out why the future he’d tried so hard to avoid; had only partially come to pass.  Even Salan himself was unsure of the answer, it was if some invisible force and been driving him on all these years, he was little more than a passenger in the journey of his own life.

The door was open when he approached the house; the Vulcan hadn’t needed to ask for direction, even though he’d never been to the building in question.  It was a modest single story structure like all those around it; yet it seemed to stand alone, drawing your eyes towards it.

She didn’t turn around when Salan reached the threshold of the door, busy as she was preparing something in a small black pot that sat on a stove.  “Welcome Commander Salan.”

Her voice still carried the melodic tones it had done thirty odd years ago, but now tinged with a slight throaty rasp.  He had to admit to being impressed by the way the woman had addressed him, clad as he was in casual civilian clothes, which gave no hint of his occupation or rank. “Most impressive.” He replied.

“Take a seat; you’ve come a long way.” Jia continued.  “The soup will be ready in a moment.”

The Commander pulled a wooden chair from under the kitchen table and sat himself down, hands clasped together. “You were expecting me?” The Vulcan asked casually.

She said nothing for the next few minutes, whilst she was stirring the soup and then ladling it into two wooden bowls; one of which she set before the Vulcan.  “Of cause why wouldn’t I?”

“Fascinating.” Salan replied, before trying a spoon of soup.  He recognised the flavour; it was Vulcan in origin, something his mother had made on numerous occasions when he was growing up.

“Must have been so hard not being there when she died?” Jia said softly.

The comment caught him out and Salan realised his reaction thought subtle would probably been picked up by the woman. “It was most unfortunate.”

“I guess that’s one way of putting it.” Jia replied.  “It must hurt so much inside thought?”

“I’ve used meditation, contemplation and accepting death is an inevitable part of life.”

“How very noble and Vulcan of you, Commander.” Her words this time had a sharp edge to the way she said them. “Shame you don’t believe your own words.  In fact you’ve found it increasingly hard to trust your own judgement since your capture.  Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Though he wasn’t going to openly admit to it, Jia was close to the mark.  They’d tried to break him, in fact much to his frustration had broken him; yet their hold on his mind had been severed.  Parts of his memories were missing and fragmented.  He remembered being under the control of Helgeshran and trying to kill Doctor Andrianakis; but did not understand why, or the reason he’d thankfully failed.  He’d woken with numerous burns to his hands feet and body, almost like being stuck by lightening; though these injuries had been explained away as been caused by damaging equipment in the Medical Bay.

“I admit that my judgement has seemed clouded at time.”  She was probably the first person Salan had shared that information with; he’d even glossed over it during the mandatory counselling seasons he’d received soon after his return.

“How are you enjoying your soup?” Jia asked with a chuckle.

The Commander felt something was off, he started feeling light headed, his vision blurring. “What have you done?”

“I’ve seen the light, Commander and accepted my fate and that of all others.”  She replied.  “All hail the Helgeshran, he of the light, for his time approaches.”

Salan tried to stand, but his legs felt suddenly weak; his head spun as the room danced before him, the Vulcans body raked with stomach and chest pains, breathing laboured.  Was this how he was going to die?