Chapter 38

Koh was waiting for him in Room A. Kirk was breathing heavily.

"Kirk, are you all right?"

"Just... winded. Not enough... exercise... lately."

"You ran all the way here?!"

"Jogged, yes. Longest twenty minutes of my life."

"Come next door. Supper's on the table."

They ate in companionable silence. Kirk seemed relatively at ease. With the meal over, Koh wanted to talk.

"How much energy does it take to control the fear in this environment?"

"Do you mean here in this room eating, or the lab in general?"

"I meant in this room, but I'm interested in both answers."

"The lab in general is a much more threatening place than Konti's home, for obvious reasons. This room is among the less threatening parts of the lab. We talk here, but other than food and drink torture, you don't do anything in here."

"What about Room A?"

Kirk shuddered. "The place gives me the creeps."

"What about sleep?"

"In Room A?! Not a chance."

"How about in here?"

"With you in here? I doubt it. What about Room E?"

"Not available. I'm planning a surprise for you. Sort of a reward."

"For good behavior? You think I need an incentive?"

"No, I do. You get Room E when you conquer the fear. I want to hear you laugh. I think you'll find it hysterically funny. But I'm not risking the possibility of screams instead.

"So you can sleep in the weight room. That's the best I can do. Here's the program: you sleep for the next six hours. That's followed by a workout and breakfast. That leaves us about four hours to work with. Between now and then, I want you to go into Room A two or three times. Just spend a few minutes, no big battles, just acclimation. Can you do that?"

"Probably. Easier if you're not in there."

"I won't be. May not even be watching, but I won't guarantee it."

So Kirk spent five minutes in Room A before going to bed. It was awful. He stood rigidly by the door, and stared at the table. Screaming heebie-jeebies was a mild word for how he felt. He did not actually scream, but he was shaking badly by the time he left. He tried again in the morning. Not much better, in spite of the fact that he was much more rested. The workout he enjoyed; it felt refreshingly normal, in the midst of so much else that wasn't.

After breakfast, Koh wanted to check out his reactions to Rooms D and F. Room D produced only a mild reaction. Kirk knew what went on in there, but none of it was directly associated with his memory of the past week. To his surprise, Room F produced no more reaction. He had spent many hours in that chair in the first part of the week. But his memory of those hours was not particularly traumatic.

Room A was a completely different story, and that's where they headed next. Kirk entered with visible reluctance, walked firmly to the middle of the room, and turned to face Koh.

"Well?"

"Night and day difference between this and the other rooms. And only marginally better than last night. In fact, with you in here, it's markedly worse. The instinct for flight is a major battle."

"What are you going to do about it?" Koh asked a little belligerently.

"Fight it ruthlessly until it gives up."

"How?"

"You want me to orchestrate this?" Kirk wasn't appalled, just surprised.

"Yes. You can have three hours. What's your goal? And what do you want me to do?"

Kirk thought for a moment. "One of the focal points of the fear is you. I would like to start by having you do here what you did in Konti's home. My goal is to avoid running away. I don't think I can control the rest of it. Will you do it anyway?"

"All right. Close your eyes."

Kirk shuddered. "No. I can't. Maybe later."

By the end of three hours, Kirk could stand rock-steady, eyes closed, body relaxed, while Koh approached from anywhere in the room and touched him randomly. But Koh very carefully avoided Kirk's spine.

Koh called a halt and insisted Kirk eat again. Part of the recovery program, he quipped. Kirk acquiesced with good humor. When Konti arrived, Koh told him he was ordering a ban on public appearances for Kirk until further notice.

"I know what generally goes on, and I'm not okaying it for several days at least. Better they not see him at all, than that he acquire a reputation for behaving himself. And that goes for parties at home too. Any visitors other than Korn, Kezak, or myself, Kirk stays out of sight. Is that clear?"

"No argument from me," Kirk admitted. "The internal calm that can weather any storm is still missing in action."

So they had lots of extra time to devote to the translation work. Kezak stopped in, but didn't stay long, when it was obvious Kirk was in no condition for any creative discussion of public torture. That evening Konti broached the subject of healing.

"Kirk, the Lord has healed you several times. Why don't you ask Him to heal this fear, too?"

"Good question. Let's ask Him about it."

After several minutes of silent prayer, Kirk responded.

"I think it's because Koh needs to see what's normal before we ask for the miraculous. Don't worry about me; I'll be okay. But you might pray for Koh. This is being very difficult for him, and it's not likely to get easier. At least the heat is off you for now. Maybe the Lord arranged this to give us more time for the translation work."

"Maybe, but Kirk, where will it all end?" Konti shook his head dejectedly.

"You've asked me that before. The obvious answer is death. We've talked about heaven; we've talked about what you will do after I'm gone. We've even talked about what's likely to happen between now and then. But there's something else behind your question. Can you articulate what you're really asking?"

"How can you be so uncaring about what happens to you? I know I've asked that before too, but I just don't understand you. I know what you're facing; I have some idea how awful it will be; I know you're terrified of it, and it would take a great deal to terrify you. Yet you just say, 'don't worry, I'll be okay.' There has to be a limit, even for you."

"There is; we just found it."

"No, you didn't. You just found the point at which you can't control your reaction to it. But you have not died, gone mad, or run away."

"You're right, of course. But for obvious reasons, I would prefer that the inspectors don't reach that conclusion. So if you would be so kind as to keep that observation to yourself, I would be grateful."

"Okay, but- I don't know how to say this. You're terrified, and yet you're not. Your being terrified doesn't seem to affect your willingness to do it again. And from the sound of it, you expect to do it again, and again, and again. Is there no limit to your willingness?"

"I hope not. I will do my best to avoid going mad, or running away. There is a limit to what my body can take. If Koh is as good as I think he is, he'll arrange it to maximize the terror while keeping my body at the max it can tolerate, without exceeding the max. If he exceeds it, I die. If not, I will tolerate the pain, even if I'm screaming that I can't. Koh knows very well what I can tolerate.

"It's what my emotions can take that's being tested. How much fear can I tolerate? At what point will I simply refuse to go on, either by physically running away, or checking out mentally? I don't know the answer, but I will fight the terror with everything I have. When and if that no longer works, I will accept the terror the same way I accept the pain. Neither will destroy me. Of that I am utterly certain."

xxxx

The next morning at the lab, Koh wondered if Kirk had lost the ground he'd gained the day before. But Kirk handled the game with the same rock-steadiness he had finished with - until Koh ran a finger down Kirk's spine. He screamed, arched his body in agony, and collapsed to the floor, holding his face in his hands, his body racked with silent sobs. Koh knelt beside him.

"I'm sorry, Kirk. I shouldn't have done that."

It was several minutes before Kirk could respond.

"Don't be sorry, Koh. I want you to do it again."

Kirk worked at it relentlessly, and by the end of that session, Kirk could again stand rock-steady, even when Koh touched his spine. The third day, Kirk discovered that Koh's touch no longer hurt. His nervous system was recovering. So he turned his attention to conquering his fear of the table. That took two days, but thereafter he returned to sleeping on the table. The fifth day he began wearing the leads again, and they started experimenting with his tolerance for pain. The sixth day he wore the head device, and had his tolerance back up to 400. On the seventh day, Koh sent him to Room E.

"You've earned it. Have fun!"

Kirk's first impression was that the room was full of something, from wall to wall and floor to ceiling, though not being able to see or hear, he had very little idea what it was full of. From the smell, or lack of it, he was guessing it was non-organic. Also, there didn't seem to be any shortage of air, as if the something took up space, but not the entire volume of the room.

He took one step into the room, and was instantly surrounded. The something didn't press against him, but lightly grazed his skin on all sides. Hampered by the handcuffs, his hands could not get a purchase on anything. He took three more steps. The motion gave him the impression that the something was rounded in shape, but he still couldn't manage to grab hold of anything. His reach was extremely limited with his hands pinned behind him.

Suddenly, the something, or somethings, came to life and grabbed him. He felt one tentacle wrap itself around his neck, another around his arm, two more around his legs. Then suction cups planted themselves on various parts of his skin. He stood stock still in surprise. He had been certain the something was not alive. Abruptly an image from a children's book came unbidden to his mind, and he burst out laughing. Immediately the tentacles and suction cups retreated. Koh let him laugh for several minutes.

"Well? If you're right, that took you 1.2 minutes."

"It's the fifty-ton, mile-long, giant, killer octopus come to life." And Kirk burst into renewed laughter, undiminished by a second attack of the 'octopus.'

"You're right, it's hysterically funny, but probably wouldn't have been a few days ago. What did you do: scour the mindsifter data for a monster out of my childhood?"

"I didn't, but someone else did. I told them you would think it was funny. They didn't believe me."

"Is the thing fragile? I'd like to explore, but I don't want to ruin this expensive toy."

"Go ahead. You can't hurt it, but it's programmed to attack you. And if you struggle, it will tighten its grip, so be warned. I won't necessarily be able to see you well enough to know if you're in trouble."

"Understood."

Kirk played with the octopus for over an hour. At the end of it, he had managed to so confuse its programming that he was lounging on several of its tentacles without being attacked. It was not, of course, a mile long, nor a killer, but it was a giant, and did sort of behave like an octopus. Much more real than the one in the book, but that was part of what made it funny. In the book, it had been a practical joke, and so was this.

"I hope they didn't spend too much money on this toy. I hate to disappoint their expectations."

"Don't be sorry. I have rivals that envy my work with you. I don't mind putting them in their place."

After leaving Room E, they spent a couple of hours debriefing the marathon session that had broken Kirk. It was a mark of Kirk's control over the fear, that he shared thoughts, impressions, and opinions with complete transparency. Koh marveled.

"Are you really no longer afraid of it, that you can share openly and make suggestions for improvement?"

"I still fear it, but the fear is not controlling me. I chose complete transparency when we started this, and I'm not going to change now. But I'm just as glad you didn't ask me these questions last week."

xxxx

The next night Koh inserted IV's and had six injections laid out. Kirk's eyes were haunted when Koh told him to lie down on the table. This is it, he thought. Major panic attack. He almost bolted. Body rigid with the effort to control it, he took a step towards the table. Then another. Barking mental orders at himself, Kirk managed to comply. Lying on his back, he only just barely managed to control the shaking. Koh strapped him down and left him for an hour or so. By the time he returned, Kirk had the fear well under control. Or he thought he did, until Koh walked in.

"If you're going to give me this much time to adjust to everything, it'll take all night to get this set up."

"Is that a problem?"

"Suit yourself. I'm not going anywhere."

"You're not fooling me, Kirk. I've got the stress reader."

"What does it say?"

"That it took you almost 45 minutes to bring it down from 'climbing the wall' state to 'under control, but just barely.' Good thing there's no stress reader monitoring me. Who knows what it would say."

Kirk smiled encouragingly. "You're doing just fine, Koh. Not a tremor in sight."

Koh had been attaching wires as he talked. Now he put the helmet over Kirk's head with a final comment.

"Have a good ride!"

Kirk actually laughed. But when Koh flipped him face down, he gasped. He tried to relax, but it didn't work. Handcuffs, leg manacles, and lines to the ceiling made him feel like a trussed chicken. His courage felt like a chicken too. Oh well, this was not going to take five days this time. More like five hours, if Koh would just get on with it.

But Koh didn't. Hours went by with no further change. If it weren't for the line to the ceiling attached to his collar, Kirk could have slept. That is, if he could have banished the fear, which he couldn't. Koh knew that the one thing Kirk couldn't stand was the wires in the back. Kirk wished he would just do it and get it over with. This waiting for it was driving him crazy.

It struck him suddenly that that was precisely Koh's intent. He was doing exactly what Kirk had told Konti that he would do: drive him crazy with the fear of it. He began to laugh.

Koh watched the stress reading plummet.

"Mind telling me what's so funny?"

"Me, you, the whole situation. It's taken me this long to realize what you're doing. I told Konti you would, but did I recognize it? No. Sometimes, I'm not very smart."

"And what am I doing?"

"Prolonging the anticipation and the fear, driving me crazy as I sit here waiting for what I can't stand."

"The last time I checked, you were not sitting."

Kirk laughed again. "Indeed. Koh, your dry humor reminds me of someone, don't know who, another of those lost memories."

"Kirk, tell me about the fear. What's happened to it?"

"It's gone! I mean completely gone. I didn't even realize it until just now. So you can put those wires in my back whenever you like, now or later, I don't care."

"How do you account for that?"

"I don't. It's entirely unexpected. I would call it a miracle, but I wasn't even asking for one. God just did it. Maybe Konti asked Him to, I don't know. But I'm grateful nonetheless. Sorry it spoils your report, though. But not sorry enough to want to return to fear-crazed trauma. I'll let you know if it comes back, though you'll probably know it before I do, if you're looking at the stress reader."

xxxx

Spock became gradually aware that Jim was enduring severe trauma. Other than pray for him, there was nothing Spock could do. But it went on for several days. McCoy, Chuck, and Young all noticed. Others maybe did too, but didn't say anything. Formerly, Spock would have denied the problem. Now he freely admitted what was wrong, and asked for prayer. When Chuck prayed, suddenly the trauma stopped, and all was peaceful.

"Thank you, Chuck. Jim is fine now. Whatever was wrong isn't any more. The Lord has fixed it."