Chapter 11

They were back early the next morning with more hours of questions. But as they were all repetitions of those asked the day before, Kirk was bored. His answers grew increasingly flippant and obnoxious. Khlat was clearly disturbed by Kirk's attitude. Konti just ignored it. Koh observed that his stress readings were again low as they had been before. He muttered something about Kirk's uncanny ability to adjust to absolutely anything.

Finally Kirk was so exhausted that his replies were nothing more than mumbles. Konti asked Koh for an opinion.

"He's at the point of physical and mental exhaustion. Emotionally, however, he's stable as a rock," Koh insisted.

"Do you know anything about Spock? Can the Vulcan do what Kirk says he did?"

"Not that I've heard, but nobody knows what all Vulcans can do."

"Well, regardless of how it was done, I'm afraid we have to face the fact that his memory is gone. He couldn't possibly be holding out on us, could he?" Konti glared at Koh, almost ready to take his frustration out on his oldest friend.

"No, sir, it's not possible. And if it were, he couldn't do it without some indication on his readings, and there's nothing, absolutely nothing."

"So it's true, and Command is not going to be happy. Meanwhile, what do I do with him?"

"You could kill him," Koh suggested.

"Yes, I could, and I probably will, but not just yet. Khlat, fetch the branding iron."

Kirk was dimly aware that they had stopped asking questions, but he was too far gone to notice that they had entered the room. The first inkling he had that something was about to change was when they flipped him right side up and took off the straps. His mental fog evaporated and he was immediately alert. He still could not control his tongue, however.

"I see you finally got as tired of those questions as I did."

He was rather surprised to feel Koh's hands removing the head device entirely.

"Having had this on for a week, I feel undressed without it."

Khlat snorted, "You are undressed!"

Kirk was assaulted by sounds of all kinds, most of which he normally would have ignored as simply background noise. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, and still hurt from the light leaking through.

"From sensory deprivation to overload in seconds. Very effective."

"Get up." It was Konti's voice.

"He can't," Koh protested.

"That's a challenge if I ever heard one. I'll grant you it would be easier if you'd turned off the other pain device too, but I gather you're not going to do that. You want to know if I'm really as exhausted as your instruments say I am. Probably. I have no idea whether I can get up, but there's only one way to find out."

He was moving as he continued to talk.

"When I was a kid, I was a sucker for dares. Finally they stopped asking me, because I so often succeeded in doing what they wouldn't have tried."

Kirk managed to sit up and swing his feet over the edge. When he tried to stand up, he fell in a heap on the floor. Khlat snorted in triumph; Koh muttered, "I told you so;" Konti just waited. Kirk got his feet under him and slowly stood up. Konti heard him muttering as he did so.

"I will open them. I will keep them open."

In Kirk's mind, there was no longer any question that he could and would stand up. He had moved on to the next challenge, that of opening his eyes. As he stood erect, he faced Konti with wide open eyes.

"I can't see anything except red spots, but the eyes are open. I would like to know what you see in my eyes."

Koh was surprised that Konti answered.

"I do not have words for what I see. More to the point is what I do not see: anger, hatred, or bitterness. Nevertheless, it is the seventh day. Kneel."

"Ah. Back to that again. I wondered why you wanted the head device off." Kirk knelt as he continued to speak. "I suppose it gets in the way."

Kirk continued to run off at the mouth. Normally he would have dignified the ceremony with silence, but pumped full of that drug, he found silence impossible.

Konti had timed it this way on purpose. Unnerved by what he had seen in Kirk's eyes the first time, Konti wanted to know Kirk's thoughts. Also he was curious to see whether Kirk could remain motionless in spite of extreme fatigue and maximum pain from the electric leads. Given what he had seen in the last 24 hours, Konti wasn't very surprised that Kirk could manage a second perfect performance. What did surprise him was Kirk's thoughts.

His tone of voice was that of casual conversation between friends. Not a trace of fear or anger. Calmly confident, he was not self-focused. By no means completely oblivious to the proceedings, he was more interested in Konti than himself. Suddenly the tone of voice changed. Konti couldn't analyze the difference, but it was clearly there. Nor did he understand the words, though they were in Klingon.

"Jesus, open my eyes that I may see Konti's soul."

A moment later, "Thank you, Lord."

Then, "Konti, you don't like doing this."

Kirk was obviously surprised, but Konti was so startled by this statement, he nearly dropped the branding iron. How could Kirk know that?

"I'm sorry I startled you. Did I ruin your artwork? I don't mind if you have to do it over, but maybe you better wait til this drug wears off so I won't distract you. Or maybe you could just put a piece of tape over my mouth."

Konti put the branding iron away and returned to examine Kirk's face.

"There's a small spot on your nose, but the brand is fine."

"I'm glad. Konti, what is it about this that you don't like? How can I help you?"

Konti refused to answer. Making the knife wound quickly, he departed with haste, signaling Koh to follow. They left Kirk unrestrained, with eyes and ears functioning, and they didn't even lock the door. Khlat left too, but watched Kirk from the monitoring room.

"Well, that's interesting." Kirk continued talking to himself. "Konti's obviously pretty upset. I wonder why? Lord, speak peace to his soul right now."

He continued to pray for Konti, then also for Koh and Khlat as well. As he did so, he stood up, did several stretching exercises, and turning on the treadmill, began a slow jog. He tried to ignore the fact that it felt like he was walking on spikes through a field of knife points. He knew his muscles needed the workout, and he had no idea how long it would be before they strapped him down again.

Konti strode into Koh's office, sat heavily in Koh's chair, and gestured for Koh to shut the door.

"What is it with that man? Koh, he rattles me! Why?"

"Konti, we've known each other a long time. I wouldn't dare say this to anyone else. If you let Kirk get under your skin, you'll live to regret it. I don't exactly know why, but my opinion is the sooner you kill him, the safer we'll be. He hasn't made one aggressive move since he got here, but he's got you rattled, and me rattled, and you saw Khlat the other day when he brought Kirk in here."

"But Koh, I don't want to kill him. I like him!"

"All the more reason you better. And for what it's worth, I like him too. But consider this. So far he's been very cooperative. What happens when he decides he's through playing our little games? I have absolutely no way to control him. There is nothing I can do that he fears." Koh slumped in defeat.

"That's part of why I like him. Oh, if only he was a Klingon! It would be glorious!" He shook himself mentally. "But he's not." Konti sighed. "I think what rattles me is something I see in his eyes. Have you ever looked into his eyes, Koh?"

"No, but I'll tell you something he did that rattled me. It was several days ago. I had him pumped full of XPL-4. That's a drug that produces an urgent need to move the muscles. I thought the conflict between that and having every move produce agony would drive him over the edge. It didn't. Anyway, I had removed the straps so he could get up and find the treadmill. He found it with no trouble, but he was more interested in exploring everything in the room with his fingers. Including me."

"You let him touch you?!" Konti was alarmed at Koh's lapse of common sense.

"I did. I don't know why. Maybe there was some kind of challenge in his body language. He didn't say a word, and he gave me plenty of time to evade him. He could have gouged my eyes out. Probably the reason he didn't is the same reason he makes no effort to remove those electric leads. But I don't know what that is either.

"So there you have it. He's a mystery. And anything I don't understand is dangerous. So my advice is kill him, and do it now, while you still can."

"I can't. Command would have a fit, slave status not withstanding. They want him alive. And if we can't get him to talk, they'll have the mindsifter on him as soon as we get back. I'll fight it because he's my slave, but they'll undoubtedly win. What an inglorious end!" Konti shook his head at the thought.

"So how much time have we got left?"

"Another week at the outside. I can't stall any longer."

"I've got one more idea. I think Kirk is very social. And he gets bored when there's nothing new happening. I've got a machine designed to promote healing. But I think I can fix it to make him completely isolated, total sensory deprivation including gravity, absolute immobility, maximum pain, and a constant dose of the talk drug. No contact and no change; if I leave him there for days, maybe, just maybe, he'll crack."

Konti shuddered mentally. He wouldn't wish that kind of treatment on his worst enemy. But - it was better than the mindsifter.

"Do it. Seven days. And I want a complete recording of everything he says, whether it seems relevant or not."

They returned to the monitoring room, and Konti left, taking Khlat with him.

"Well Krun, what's he been doing?" Koh asked.

"The treadmill, sir. He never approached the door. And you can see he hasn't tried to take off the leads. To see him move, you'd never know he was in pain. But I haven't touched the dial, sir. It's still sitting at 40, the max he can tolerate."

"That's with the head device on too. We don't know what he can tolerate with just wires. Start increasing it, but slowly - just five points at a time, every five minutes. I want to know how long it takes him to realize it's increasing, what he does about it, if anything, and how high he can tolerate without losing consciousness."

Meanwhile Kirk had been enjoying his workout. The talk drug had worn off, and he had fallen into grateful silence. He didn't immediately notice the increase in pain level, because it coincided with pushing the limits on his workout. So it was only during the cool down phase that he noticed the pain wasn't decreasing. But it certainly wasn't increasing very fast. Maybe he could manage to take a nap.

He figured out how to turn the table right side up, and lay down. But he couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. So he hopped off the table, turned it into a reclining chair, and hopped back on. By this time the pain was roughly double what it had been, and he was just as glad to remain stationary. If they kept this up, he'd be unconscious soon. He relaxed all his muscles and just let it happen.

Krun reported to Koh.

"Sir, I'm afraid I have no idea when he became aware of the increased pain. It didn't look to me as if there was any change in his behavior or facial expression. He hasn't said a word since the drug wore off. He finished his workout, then got comfortable on the table. That's all he's done. According to the instruments, he's unconscious, but I can't tell by looking at him."

"What's your present reading?"

"130, sir. He blacked out at 125."

"Pull it down to 115. When the instruments say he's conscious, kick it all the way up to 200. I want him out cold for at least an hour."

xxxx

When Kirk regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that the pain had returned to what he thought of as normal - the level it had been at for days, the max he could tolerate without losing consciousness. That meant the head device was back, which he confirmed by opening his eyes on utter darkness.

The second thing he noticed was the lack of gravity. The third was his immobility. But it was an externally applied force of some kind; there was nothing wrong with his nerves and muscles. The last thing he noticed was that he was thinking out loud again. That was how long it took him to figure out where he was and what they were doing.

He laughed. "I will undoubtedly regret saying this, but this is eminently more comfortable than hanging upside down by those three straps. So, complete sensory deprivation. Sorry, the lack of gravity doesn't bother me a bit. Lack of sight and sound feels normal. Even the lack of mobility isn't a problem. So you're wasting your time, but I don't mind. Keep it up as long as you like. And if it amuses you to listen to my every thought, feel free. You'll get an earful, I promise you."

He launched into a recitation of all the Scripture verses he knew, followed by the outline of Christian theology he had worked out the previous week. After a second complete rendition, he announced his intention to sleep until 0700. He then asked the Lord to silence his tongue, put him to sleep, and wake him at precisely 0700 ship's time. And the Lord did as he asked.

He began that next morning with as complete a muscle workout as he could manage, given that it all had to be isometric. He followed that with another complete recitation of Scripture and theology outline. Next he gave a one-hour lecture expanding on the first point of the outline. Then he spent an hour in prayer. He repeated this sequence of activities twice more, then again slept until 0700 the next morning.

The second day he was much more rested. Also getting rather bored. But he dutifully went through the routine he had established for himself, knowing how dangerous it would be mentally to abandon the routine. However when he had finished three rounds of the routine, he was by no means ready for sleep. So he added an element for the evening hours: meditation on the Scripture verses. He got through the first five, and then called it quits for the day.

First thing the next morning, he was again tempted to abandon the routine.

"You're bored, right? Let's liven things up."

"Right. Straight into the pit of despair. No thank you."

"Are you afraid?"

"No, and I'm not stupid either."

And he proceeded vigorously with the first round of the routine. Towards the end of his prayer time that first round, the Lord spoke in a still, small voice.

"Jim, I want you to abandon the routine."

It undoubtedly sounded just like another conversation with himself, but to Kirk, it was a clear communication from God.

"Lord, you know I'm willing to do whatever You want, but it would help me to be sure that I'm hearing You correctly if You told me why."

"They are doing this to you in the hopes that you'll go nuts. You established the routine in order to avoid that. I want to show them what happens when you lose it. Do you trust me that much?"

"Yes, Lord, I trust You. I've got a couple of questions though. What does going insane look like?"

"You tell me."

"Well I guess it starts with admitting to myself that I can't stand any more. Outward manifestation might be screaming, sobbing, begging, maybe all of that; a completely out-of-control response of some kind. Oh, and Koh has some kind of stress reading machine. That would have to show significant emotional trauma, or he'd think I was faking the whole thing, which of course I could.

"That brings me to the next question: How do I get from here to there? What do you want me to do? And what if it takes days?"

"How many days have you been here already?"

"Almost three."

"Without the routine you would have no idea, and it will feel like almost forever."

"Okay, scratch the question about days. If it takes too long, that's their problem."

"What exactly concerns you about the time?"

"Two things really. On the seventh day, Konti has to do his branding thing again. I doubt if he can do it without taking me out of this box. The other thing is I'm guessing that he's getting pressure from his superior to produce results. I don't know how much longer he can stall."

"Will you trust me for the timing?"

"Yes, I will. So, what do you want me to do?"

"This is not something you can make happen. You have to let it happen. But if you want something to do, focus your thoughts on how this feels. But don't try to control your thoughts. Let them wander where they will. Avoid routines and discipline. Let the effects accumulate. Be patient."

"Thank you. That helps."

He proceeded to describe in some detail what it felt like to be completely isolated. Then he talked about the pain for a while. But that was a dead issue; it didn't effect him emotionally at all. So he went back to talking about the isolation. Unfortunately, while it wasn't particularly pleasant, he wasn't afraid of it. He knew it would end eventually, and it wasn't especially difficult to endure. But the Lord had said the effects would accumulate. Maybe he'd feel differently after he lost all track of time.

Meanwhile he let his mind wander to several events from his childhood. Then to some favorite Scripture verses. Then back to the isolation. No change. Be patient.

He spent some time dealing with the question of whether he feared going insane. Looked at objectively, no he didn't. It mattered very little whether his last days were spent sane or insane. But the process of losing his mind by losing all touch with reality - apprehension was too mild a word. Yes, he feared it. He feared the loss of control, as well as the loss of identity. All of which did not mean he was quitting.

He spent quite a while letting his imagination run wild with what-if questions. It didn't work. He always came back to the reality that he knew exactly where he was and why. He also knew how long it was likely to go on. And his proof that they were still there was the talking drug. They were obviously pumping it into him through the IV, but somebody had to replenish the supply.

Back to the isolation issue - no real change. He had no idea what time it was, but if fatigue was any indicator, it felt like the middle of the night. They'd probably have to wait til he was so exhausted, that he wasn't thinking clearly. That could take a while.

He went and stared into the gaping hole of lost memories for a long time. That was emotionally painful, but didn't contribute much to the isolation issue. It just took up some time. Forcing his mind to stay undisciplined was difficult. He finally went back to Scripture verses, because he was too tired to do anything else. Besides he liked them.

By the end of the second day Kirk was no longer thinking in complete sentences. A word or phrase expressed the whole thought. He was also hoarse from talking non-stop, so his words were little more than whispers. But he was not so exhausted that he couldn't think. And his soul stubbornly clung to the truths he knew, in spite of the lack of outside input. Much as he would have liked to speed up the process because he was tired, he knew that nothing but the real thing would do, and that could not be hurried.

He spent most of the third day muttering single word thoughts, like 'alone', 'lose', 'insane', 'reality', 'trust', 'all things', 'patience'. He was mentally exhausted, but emotionally, nowhere near the trauma stage. He supposed eventually it would drive him mad, but so far there was no sign of it. He gathered the energy for a whole sentence.

"Lord, I'm willing to stay here, but I can't get where You want me. Maybe You better do it for me."

"Are you asking me to?"

"Yes, Lord, please."

Suddenly his voice was loud and clear. Koh and Khich sat up startled.

"Koh, Khich, I am using Kirk's voice, but he cannot hear me. I will do this because he asks. It will not be as he imagines it, or as you expect. I have restored his voice, so you can hear clearly. In two hours, I will put him to sleep."