Author's note: Throughout the rest of this story, Kirk encounters torture on various levels. His response is not intended to be very realistic. Nor do I intend to mock or belittle anyone who has endured the real thing. Survivors of POW situations deserve our honor, consideration, and gratitude.

Chapter 9

Konti approached the corridor where Kirk was shortly before 0700 that morning. He declined the offered whip and just stood watching for a few minutes. Several crewmen took their turn with the whip, and Konti could see no sign of any reaction in Kirk. Then he noticed the feet. They had been flat on the floor. Now they were up on his toes. Two minutes later, he put them down again. Konti inquired of the guard.

"He's been doing that all night without a break. It's so he can breathe, sir."

As Konti turned back to watching Kirk, something seemed different. Kirk's posture was slightly more rigid. Suddenly he collapsed. Konti's first instinct was to rush to his aid. His second instinct was to be wary of a trap. Filing away the first for future study, he chose to act on the second.

He sent for Dr. Koh, and continued to watch Kirk. When he began turning blue from lack of oxygen, Konti ordered him cut down.

Koh and Khlat arrived simultaneously.

"Scan him. Is he really unconscious, and if so, why?"

Konti stared at Khlat in accusatory silence.

"Yes, sir, he is. No, wait- he's coming out of it now."

He paused, and Kirk coughed twice, then lay still.

"Insufficient data to determine cause, but vital signs are all normal now, sir."

"Could that head device you've got on him have caused this?"

"Absolutely not, sir. The stimulus is not strong enough to cause loss of consciousness."

"What about Khlat's methods?"

"No, sir. I have checked him three times in the last twelve hours, and my professional opinion is that nothing Khlat has done so far could have caused this. No, this is something else entirely, but without a complete exam, I cannot determine what. Of course, you could ask him."

Konti stared at what he could see of Kirk's face. He imagined he saw the ghost of a smile on Kirk's mouth. Only for a moment, then his face was passive. Konti decided not to risk Kirk's refusal to talk in front of so many crewmen. Ordering everyone back to work, he left Kirk in Khlat's hands for another day.

Kirk's first thought was how good it felt to be lying down. His second: was Spock successful? He gingerly touched the raw wound only long enough to determine that everything was gone between his arrival on this ship and his first day at the Academy. His third: who was Spock? It hurt even to ask himself the question. So many such questions would now have no answer. Spock was a friend; Spock had taken his memory; Spock was gone now. That would have to do for an answer. For now, he would try to live in the present, and not ask questions.

The present intruded itself upon him in the form of three whiplashes across his legs. Supposing that meant, 'get up,' Kirk awkwardly got to his feet.

Khlat was not pleased that he could manage it, and drove him relentlessly for four hours. Then he tied Kirk's leash overhead, as he had done before. This time however, Kirk could tell he was in the mess hall, because he could smell the food. He had had nothing to eat or drink since he arrived, and doubted they would give him anything now.

They didn't. Instead, the whip was passed around and applied constantly for two hours. Kirk guessed the party was abandoned only because the crew was sent back to work. Khlat untied him, and drove him to what Kirk guessed was the gym. It was a large room at any rate, and the smells were more like the gym than the hangar deck.

Kirk didn't know it, but Khlat had advertised this session, and the walls were lined with off-duty crewmen there to watch the fun. Koh and Konti were there as well.

Kirk knew something was different when Khlat removed the leash entirely. He was further surprised when the application of the whip became a caress, for direction only rather than primarily for torment and only secondarily for direction. Knowing that whatever the room contained would prove unpleasant at best, Kirk was nonetheless interested and curious. Thus far, Khlat's methods had been boringly monotonous.

Some sixth sense told Kirk the room was full of obstacles. But for ten minutes, Khlat directed him in a maze of moves during which he ran into nothing. Kirk began to wonder what the point of this was. Perhaps there was an audience, and Khlat wanted to crow about how docilely he followed orders even without being tied to a leash. Let them laugh; Kirk didn't mind. Now why not? he asked himself. Another question whose answer was lost in the void of memories gone.

As Khlat continued to arrogantly boast of his power over Kirk, Konti turned to ask for Koh's opinion.

"I think it suits Kirk to play his game. I don't think Khlat has even come close to beating Kirk into submission. Look at the way he carries himself. 24 hours is not enough to exhaust him. It's too bad he's not a Klingon. He's certainly not the weakling most humans are."

Konti mentally agreed with Koh's assessment, but made no comment. Instead he watched Kirk intently as Khlat sent him toward the nail pile. He seemed to hesitate briefly as his feet first encountered the nails. Khlat touched the whip to the back of his legs, and Kirk strode briskly forward, climbing the pile of nails as if he was not barefoot. Near the top, the pile shifted under him, he lost his balance, and fell. He rolled down the opposite side of the pile, got to his feet, and stood waiting for Khlat's next direction.

For the next three hours, Khlat set him to tackle every obstacle in the room, most of them several times. In between each one, Khlat sent him through the nail pile again. After the third attempt, he was able to keep his feet through the shifting mass, thus avoiding damage to all but his feet and ankles.

It was Kirk's opinion that the other obstacles were not designed primarily for damage, though his feet did take a beating from the various ropes and things they wanted him to climb. If it hadn't been for the heavy chain between his legs, he would have thought he was back at home on the playground at school. In fact, he enjoyed the entire afternoon, in spite of the difficulties. Indeed, possibly because of them.

Khlat was sharp enough to know which of the obstacles bothered Kirk the most. So they did those four times each. That was the tightrope walk and the water tank. The water came up to his neck as he stood in the tank, and the tank was located directly under the tightrope, though he was not sure if Khlat knew he was aware of that danger. And the fourth time was no easier to face than the first, in fact, quite the opposite.

Nevertheless, he was sorry when the session was over and Khlat put the leash back on. He suspected it hadn't been nearly as much fun for the audience as it had been for him, because Khlat's application of the whip was extra vigorous.

They went back to the mess hall, and Kirk spent three hours as the center of another whipping party. When the crowd finally tired of it and left, Khlat again drove him relentlessly through the ship's corridors. Kirk knew he should give in, that Khlat would keep this up until Kirk could go no farther. But bored as he was with the routine, it wasn't in him to quit. Now why - but no, he wasn't going to ask himself why questions.

Stick to the present, he told himself firmly. And the only present concern was whether Khlat would keep this up all night. Actually Kirk hoped he would, because as tiring as this was, it was preferable to standing in one place all night trying to breathe. Unfortunately, Khlat quit at midnight and strung him up in the same corridor as the previous night.

Knowing that mental activity was important to keep him alert, Kirk spent the first hour going over the session in the gym. There had been ten obstacles other than the nail pile. He mentally located each one in relation to the others as well as the nail pile. Then he rehearsed the steps of each one til he had the whole thing memorized. He doubted they'd give him another chance at it, but just in case.

After he had exhausted that topic, Kirk spent several hours reviewing that last conversation with Spock. He wanted to be sure not to forget any of it. He quoted to himself, several times each, the arsenal of Scripture verses they had compiled the night before. He also put in outline form the Biblical principles they had discussed; then he memorized the outline.

As night wore on towards morning, Kirk's strength waned. Another day of this will finish me, he thought. The idea did not particularly disturb him, and he was too tired to even wonder what the finish would be like. 'I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.' The verse came unbidden to his mind. All things - even dying. Even another day of this boring but exhausting routine.

Lord, whatever this day brings, I want to meet it with Your strength. Mine has about had it, but Yours is inexhaustible. In Your strength, I can do what You want me to do today. This whole thing was Your idea, Lord. You've got me exactly where You want me, and I'm going to trust You to finish the job.

As traffic increased with morning shift change, Kirk noticed that some crewmen passed without hitting him. He could feel their footsteps through the floor. Maybe they were getting as bored as he was.

Then Khlat showed up. Kirk's interest brightened as he felt Khlat put straps across his chest. At least something was going to be different. Khlat attached the straps to something behind Kirk, and when he got the signal to go, Kirk discovered the something had considerable weight. Also, the first time he tried to stop, he discovered it had no brakes. It hit him forcefully in the back of the legs, sending him to his knees. Thereafter he put up a foot to stop the sled before it hit him.

As they began to move again, Kirk discovered the weight had doubled. The straps dug into his raw shoulder wounds, but once it was moving, it was relatively easy to pull. As the weight continued to vary up and down, Kirk deduced (correctly) that Khlat was giving rides on the sled to various crewmen. As the day wore on, Khlat increased the number of people on the sled. Kirk supposed if they were all standing up, there might be room for ten. Actually, at one point, there were twelve.

If the average Klingon weighed 200 pounds (and Kirk was sure most of them weighed more than that), then he was moving in excess of 2,000 pounds! He should not be able to budge a sled weighing that much. Therefore, what he was doing was using the Lord's strength.

The Klingons were impressed too. That did not suit Khlat at all, and he drove Kirk harder. But the harder he drove him, the more strength Kirk displayed. Khlat could not understand it. Kirk should be absolutely exhausted. Finally his time was up. He had skipped his meal and had been driving Kirk for twelve hours straight. He still looked as fresh and capable as the day he arrived. Khlat delivered him to Sickbay and admitted defeat.

Dr. Koh did not gloat, but graciously thanked Khlat for his work. He had not expected Khlat to break Kirk. Merely to provide entertainment for the crew, while softening him up for the real job ahead. Observing Konti watching, Khlat merely acknowledged Koh's words and took his leave.

Koh regarded Kirk in silence for a moment, then removed the leg and wrist manacles and dismissed the guards. He, Konti, and Kirk now had the room to themselves, and it wasn't even locked. Konti remarked on Koh's rashness in dismissing the guards.

"You're pretty sure of yourself, Doctor."

"Kirk doesn't know they were here, much less that they've gone."

"Don't be too sure. I'll bet he knows exactly where he is, and who you are. He probably knows I'm standing here, and he might even know the door's not locked. Never underestimate what this man knows or guesses."

"Then why isn't he doing anything about it?"

"You said it yourself yesterday. It suits him to play your game. Just remember: he's a tiger. If you treat him like a kitten just because he's acting like one at the moment, don't be surprised if you get clawed. Keep me informed."

With that, Konti left Koh alone with Kirk. The first thing Koh did was give Kirk a complete physical. Kirk imagined he heard Koh muttering over the readings. At least he probably wasn't going to tell him to lose weight. Now why- There was that pesky question again. Get used to it, he told himself. You'll be asking that unanswerable question for the rest of your short life.

Koh was indeed muttering. "Most of it looks normal enough. You're dehydrated, which I would expect. We'll take care of that shortly. You're not as exhausted as I would have expected. In fact, you're not as fatigued as you were yesterday. The instrumentation must be malfunctioning, because this reading is impossible.

"Two other things are most puzzling as well. Your overall stress level is way too low. We shall have to take steps to fix that. I need it too high off the charts in order to have you ready to talk. The other puzzling result is this data on your brain waves. I'm no expert on human brain waves, but this looks slightly abnormal to me. Unfortunately, I don't find anything that explains that brief loss of consciousness yesterday. I expect you know; I wonder if you would tell me. Probably not."

Koh strapped Kirk to the table, installed a couple of IV's, gave him four injections, fiddled with the head device, and left. The first thing Kirk noticed was that the pains from the head device had doubled in intensity. They could no longer simply be ignored. He had the feeling that he knew how to deal with this, but could not remember. Maybe if he just let himself do it, without trying to think about it.

All things, by Your strength, Lord. Even this, and whatever else Koh has planned. Within twenty minutes, Kirk found out what some of those things were. He began to feel excessively hot, then cold, then both at once. Dripping with sweat and shaking with cold, he began to retch. He wondered if Koh had managed to give him a fast-acting stomach virus, or just poison. Whichever, it spread quickly to his intestines, giving him gut-wrenching abdominal pains. After about fifteen minutes, the worst of these symptoms passed, leaving him feeling very weak. Shortly thereafter, another drug began to manifest, and he felt as if his skin was crawling. Then overlapping that symptom, but continuing on long after the others had quit, he felt as if all the nerve endings in his hands and feet were being pinched.

Koh checked on him three times during all of that, but Kirk was so internally focused that he was unaware of him. Koh was not happy. The readings showed that in spite of all the drug-induced symptoms, Kirk's stress level was still way below normal. So he gave Kirk more injections. This time the symptoms lasted about twice as long, and were slightly more violent. However, because it was no longer new, Kirk did not give it his undivided attention. So he was aware of Koh's presence when he came in to check on him. He still thought the man had gentle hands.

He was not aware of how unhappy the readings made Koh. The stress level actually showed a decrease! It did not seem possible, but he rechecked it three times. Not understanding his results, Koh changed tactics. He brought in a black box and wired Kirk to it with leads placed in various locations: either side of the neck right behind the jaw, the crook of the elbow, behind the knee, several on the chest and abdomen, and the palm of his hands.

That last one puzzled Kirk. As far as he could tell, there was absolutely nothing to prevent him from removing the ones on his hands. Maybe Koh was playing psychological games now. Kirk set his will to leave the leads in place, no matter what.

What happened next took Kirk completely by surprise. Koh flipped the table he was lying on upside down, leaving him hanging by the three straps across his chest, hips, and thighs. Then Koh lifted the table off his back, reopening several of his whiplash wounds in the process. Koh attached more leads to his backside, while Kirk wondered if the straps really would hold him or break under the strain.

Koh then proceeded to attach something to the bottoms of his feet. It felt much like the other pads with wires attached, but these pads covered the entire surface of his soles. Koh taped the wires to the back of his legs as far up as the knees. But there was nothing restricting lower leg movement. In fact, Kirk could probably have kicked Koh. But he didn't see the point in that sort of rebellion. Nor did he see the point in prying the footpads off as soon as Koh left, which he undoubtedly could have done.

Koh turned on the power, spent perhaps fifteen minutes fiddling with each of the leads, then another twenty minutes or so programming the control box, and then left. Kirk hadn't expected to be left in this face-down position. The only thing keeping him from climbing out of this harness was the straps around his wrists. He briefly considered the idea of trying to free himself, and rejected it. There was nowhere to go. He no longer had the required knowledge to make an escape, and anyway, escape was no part of the plan for his future. What short future there would be.

It didn't take long for Kirk to analyze what Koh had done. This new apparatus worked much like the head device. There were three times as many locations. The intensity was all at the same level, though Kirk didn't find it completely unbearable. The type of pain was all the same too -a sharp, stabbing pain. And for each one there was a matching pain on the bottom of his foot.

When Koh had been gone over an hour, Kirk began to think about sleep. He was very tired, and although this was an awkward position for rest, at least he could breathe. Whether he could ignore the pain enough to fall asleep was another question.

It took him almost an hour of concentrated effort to force his body to relax and not tense up with the pains. Finally however, he was completely relaxed and able to stay that way if he focused his entire attention on the task. There has to be an easier way, he thought. I know there's something that works more effectively; I just don't remember what it is.

Kirk fought his way past the mental agony that thought had produced. Stop lamenting what you've lost, he yelled at himself, and use what you've got. What did you do during Spock's surgery? You hadn't lost your memory then. That's different - I wanted him to do that. Then what is there about this to want?

Kirk thought about that briefly. Every pain is bringing me closer to the end. That's it, he thought. The pain is not an enemy to be conquered. Welcome, accept, embrace it, and it loses its power. With a contented sigh, Kirk fell soundly asleep.

xxxx

Enterprise arrived at Outpost 67. Spock, Sulu, and McCoy made up the landing party. They were met by all four of the outpost crew, two of whom had obviously just woken up. Don stepped forward.

"Sir, thank you for coming. I'm sorry I don't have good news to report."

"Has something further happened, Lieutenant?" Spock asked.

"No sir, but Captain Kirk is gone. He wouldn't let us do anything to stop them. There's been absolutely nothing out of the Zone since they left, sir. I'm sorry."

"Lieutenant, your responsibility is to this outpost. Had you attempted to interfere with the kidnapping, both you and this outpost would have been destroyed. That action would have precipitated a war between the Klingons and the Federation. Captain Kirk did not want to be responsible for starting a war. I trust you don't either."

"No sir, but-" he paused uncertainly.

"But what, Lieutenant?" Spock prompted.

"He was so calm, so matter-of-fact about it. He had it planned from the first day he got here. He was expecting them. Sir, is he on some kind of espionage mission?"

Before Spock could reply, a sudden look of horror crossed Leon's face.

"Or- is he really working for them?" Leon immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed both to have spoken out of turn, and to have voiced the accusation.

Sulu was immediately incensed and ignored Leon's chagrin. "How dare you accuse Jim of being a traitor!"

McCoy was quieter for once, but equally angry. "I'm surprised you can think that after living with him for a month."

"The best ones, you can never tell," Burt muttered.

They waited for Spock's response, the tension in the room thick enough to cut.

"Ensign, your conclusion that Captain Kirk is a spy is based on two things: his advance planning in anticipation of the Klingons' return, and his lack of fear. Is that correct? Are there other factors?"

"No, that's it, sir," Leon mumbled, staring at the floor.

Spock enlarged his attention to all four of them. "Doubtless, someone at Starfleet Headquarters will reach the same conclusion, and you will be asked some questions. Before filing any reports, you may want to consider that a wise captain plans in advance for logical outcomes. Also, Captain Kirk has faced death without fear repeatedly over the years. His reputation is well-known."

"Yes, thank you, sir. We'll remember that," Don answered for them all.

McCoy and Sulu backed down, and the tension eased. Spock asked a few more questions. McCoy informed them their crewmates were healthy enough to return. They collected Kirk's personal effects and departed. As they left the Transporter Room, McCoy was still muttering in disgust.

"A spy, indeed! What next?"

"Doctor, given a certain set of assumptions, it is not at all an illogical conclusion, especially if you factor in the phenomenon known as 'border outpost paranoia.'"

McCoy twitched a cheek at Spock's dry humor. He still wasn't feeling amused.

"We have the advantage of knowing the truth. Do not expect others to give him the benefit of the doubt." Spock pushed the 'lift call button, unerringly finding it by feel.