by 07(lit)
"I will have silence!" Goro addressed Kirk. "Three times the skies have darkened since the harvest. Our legend predicts much danger. It promises that the Wise Ones who placed us here will send a god to save us- one who can awake the temple spirit and make the skies grow quiet. Can you do this?"
Kirk hesitated, searching frantically through his emptied memory for some recollection that would make sense of the question. He saw the suspicion in Salish's eyes hardening into open scorn. "I came from the temple," he said finally. "Just as Miramanee has told... but I came from the sky, too. I can't remember this clearly, but-"
His stumbling words were interrupted by a stir at the lodge entrance. A man entered, the limp body of a boy in his arms. Both were dripping wet. Miramanee, her hand on the boy's soaked hair, cried, "A bad thing has happened! Salish, the child does not breathe! The fish nets pulled him to the bottom of the river. Lino has brought him quickly but he does not move!"
Rising, the Medicine chief went to the boy, and bend-ing his ear to the chest, listened intently. Then he pried open an eyelid to peer into the pupil. After a moment, he straightened. "There is no sound in the body," he announced, "and no light in the eyes. The child will move no more."
Lino had laid the small body on a heap of skins. Kirk glanced around at the shocked, stricken faces. He got up, moved quickly to the child and raised the head. "He is still breathing," he said. Then he stooped to place his mouth on the cold lips. Breathing regularly and deeply, he exhaled air into them. After a moment, he seized the ankles; and began to flex them back and forward against the chest. Salish made a threatening move toward him. He held up a restraining hand and Goro called, "Wait!"
The keen old ears had heard the slight moan. The child stirred feebly-and began to retch. Kirk massaged him briskly. There was a gasping breath. The eyes opened. Kirk stood up, relief flooding through him. "He will be all right now," he said.
Goro placed his palm on his forehead. "The people are grateful."
"It's a simple technique. It goes away back... away back to-"
His voice trailed off. Away back to where? He couldn't remember. This "simple technique"-where had he learned it? Now that the emergency's tension had passed, it was replaced by an anguish of frustra-tion. How had he been marooned in a present that denied him any past? Who was he? He felt as though he were dissolving, his very being slipping through his fingers like so much water.
In a dream he heard Goro say, "Only a god can breathe life into the dead." In a dream he saw him turn to the three young braves. "Do you still question that the legend is fulfilled?"
Two shook their heads. Salish alone refused to touch palm to forehead. Goro turned to Miramanee. "Give the Medicine lodge to the god."
Still in his nightmare of non-being, Kirk felt the silver band of the Medicine chief placed on his head.
It was Scott's angry opinion that too much was being asked of his engines.
"I can't give you Warp Nine much longer, Spock." Calculated disrespect went into the engineer's intercom. "My engines are showing signs of stress."
"Stress or not, we cannot reduce speed, Mr. Scott."
"If these circuits of mine get much hotter-" The nervous systems of the Enterprise bridge person-nel were also showing signs of stress. Their circuits were getting hot under pressure of the race against time be-ing made by the asteroid. Spock alone preserved his equanimity. But even his quiet eyes were riveted to the mam viewing screen where a small luminous blip was becoming increasingly visible. The irregular mass of the thing grew larger and larger, its dull though multiple colors revealing themselves more distinctly with every moment.
"Deflection point minus seven," Chekov said. "Full power, Mr. Scott," Spock said into his inter-com.
"The relays will reject the overload!"
"Then bypass the relays. Go to manual control."
"If I do that, we'll burn out the engines!"
"I want full power," Spock said tonelessly.
"Aye, sir."
The First Officer swung the command chair around to Sulu. "Magnification, factor 12, Mr. Sulu."
Sulu moved a control switch-and the image on the screen jumped into enormous contour. For the first time the asteroid's ominous details could be seen, malignant-ly jagged-a sharp-fanged mass of rock speeding toward them through the trackless vacuum of space. "Deflection point minus four," Chekov said. Spock looked away from the frightful immensity on the screen and Chekov said, "Minus three now, sir."
The Vulcan hit his intercom button. "All engines stop. Hold position here, Mr. Scott."
"All engines stopped, sir."
"Prepare to activate deflectors."
"Aye, sir."
There was an irregular cracking sound, acutely heard in the sudden silence usually filled by the engines' smooth humming. The ship vibrated.
"Power dropping, sir!" cried Sulu.
"Engineering section! Maintain full power. Full power!"
Scott's voice was hard. "Dilythium circuits failing, sir. We'll have to replace them."
"Not now," Spock said.
"Zero! Deflection point-we've reached it, sir!"
"Activate!" Spock said sharply.
On the screen the monstrous mass glowed redly. Then the glow flickered and faded.
"Degree of deflection, Mr. Sulu?"
"Insufficient, sir."
It was defeat. Horrified silence held the bridge in thrall.
The composure of Spock's voice came like a benedic-tion. "Recircuit power to engines, Mr. Scott. Maximum speed. The heading is 37 mark 010."
"That heading will put us right in the asteroid's path, sir."
"I am aware of that, Mr. Chekov. My intention is to retreat before it until we can employ all our power on our phaser beams."
"What for?" McCoy demanded.
"To destroy it." Spock turned his chair around as though he were addressing the entire personnel in the bridge. "A narrow phaser beam," he said, "that is con-centrated on a single spot of that rock will split it."
"It's also likely to cripple the ship," McCoy said. "Then we'll be crushed by the thing."
"Incorrect, Doctor. We could still evade its path by using our impulse power."
"Jim won't be able to get out of its path!"
"That is another calculated risk we must take," Spock said.
Miramanee, her arms full of new buckskin garments, was approaching Kirk's Medicine lodge when Salish stepped out from behind a pine tree.
"Where are you going?" he said.
"It is my duty to see to the needs of the god," she said quietly.
Salish tore the clothing from her. "You should be working on our ritual cloak!"
She retrieved the clothing. "There will be no ritual between us now, Salish." She spoke gently.
"You cannot go against tradition!"
"It is because of tradition that we cannot now be joined," she said.
"You are promised to me!"
"That was before he came."
"Tribal priestess and Medicine chief are always joined!"
"He is the Medicine chief." She paused. "Choose another, Salish. Any maiden will be honored to join with you."
"I do not wish another."
Genuine compassion came into her face. "You have no choice," she said.
"And if you had a choice, Miramanee, would you choose me?"
She didn't answer. His face darkened. He wheeled and strode off into a grove of sycamore trees. She shook her head sadly as she watched him disappear. Then her black eyes lit. She walked quickly toward the Medicine lodge; and Kirk, roused from his brooding by her entrance, looked up at her and smiled.
"Perhaps you would like to bathe before you clothe yourself in these." She placed the Indian garments at his feet.
"Miramanee, tell me about the Wise Ones."
"Tell? But a god knows everything."
"Not this god," Kirk said wryly. "Tell me."
She knelt beside him, fingering his uniform wonder-ingly. "The Wise Ones? They brought us here from far
away. They chose a Medicine chief to keep the secret of the temple and to use it when the sky darkens." She reached to touch the back of his uniform. "There are no lacings here," she said, puzzled. "How is it removed?"
He knew he was flushing and felt like a fool. Gently he removed her hand. "And the secret was passed from father to son? Then why doesn't Salish use the secret? Why are the people in danger?"
Still puzzled, she was seeking a way to loosen his belt. "The father of Salish died before he could tell him the secret."
Kirk had taken her hands in his when two girls, accompanied by Goro, came into the lodge. They placed their baskets of fruit at his feet; and Goro, touching his forehead respectfully, said, "The people honor your name. But they do not know what you wish to be called."
Kirk felt the anguish of frustration again. "What do I want to be called?" equaled "Who am I?"- that "I" of his without a Past, without identity. He was sweating as he fought to dredge up one small clue to the Past that was hidden from him-and suddenly one word advanced from its blackness. He said, "Kir... Kirk. I wish to be called Kirk."
"Kirok?" Goro said.
Kirk nodded. He was exhausted. Something in his face frightened the fruit bearers. They had hoped for the god's approval, not this look of lostness. They with-drew; and Goro, anxious, asked, "Have the gifts displeased you?"
"No. They are good."
"Then it must be ourselves-the way we live. Per-haps we have failed to improve as quickly as the Wise Ones wished."
Kirk could take no more. He found what he hoped were comforting words. "Your land is rich and your people are happy. The Wise Ones could not be dis-pleased with you."
"But there is something," Goro insisted. "Tell us and we will change it."
"I-I can't tell you anything. Except that I have been peaceful and glad here."
Mercifully, Goro seemed satisfied. When he'd left, Kirk turned almost angrily to Miramanee. "Why are they so sure I can save them?"
"You came from the temple. And did you not return life to the dead child?"
He placed his tortured head in his hands. "I-need time," he said, "time to try and remember..."
She placed the buckskin garments on his knees. "Here is much time, my god. Much quietness and much time."
The simplicity with which she spoke was oil on his flayed soul. The strain in it relaxed. "Yes," he said. "Thank you, Miramanee."
The Enterprise and the asteroid were speeding on a parallel course. A terrible companion, it traveled with them, a voracious menace that devoured the whole area of the bridge's main viewing screen.
"Coordinates, Mr. Chekov?"
"Tau-eight point seven, sir. Beta-point zero four one."
"That's our target, Mr. Chekov-the asteroid's weak-est point."
Chekov gave Spock a look of awed respect. "Yes, almost dead center, sir."
"Lock all phasers on that mark, Mr. Sulu. Maximum intensity, narrow beam. I want that fissure split wide open."
"You sound like a diamond-cutter, Spock," McCoy said.
"An astute analogy, Doctor."
"Phasers locked, sir," Sulu said.
"We will fire in sequence. And will continue firing as long as Mr. Scott can maintain power."
"Standing by, sir."
"Fire phasers!"
The ship trembled. "Phaser one firing!"
Sulu hit another button. "Phaser two fired!"
On the screen the rocky mass loomed larger than the ship. Fragments erupted from it as the phasers' blue beams struck it.
"Phaser three fired, sir! Phaser four!"
Another cloud of rock segments, sharp, huge were torn from the asteroid.
"All phasers fired, sir."
The stillness of Spock's face gave impressive poi-gnancy to the tone of bitter disappointment in his voice. "Rig for simultaneous firing, Mr. Sulu."
In the engineering section, Scott muttered to an as-sistant, "That Vulcan won't be satisfied till all these panels are a lead puddle!" As he spoke there was a sharp metallic click-and one of his main relays began to smoke.
"Main relay's out again, Mr. Scott!" cried the as-sistant.
"Machines are smarter than people," his chief said. "At least they know enough to quit before they blow themselves up!"
"Commence simultaneous bombardment." As Spock's order was heard on the intercom, a white-hot flash leaped from the engine compartment. There was the roar of an explosion that hurled Scott back against the opposite bulkhead. Spread-eagled, clinging to it, he was close to tears as he watched the death of his friends- his engines. "My bairns," he said brokenly. "My poor bairns..."
"Kirok."
It was a soft whisper but it roused Kirk from his uneasy doze. Kneeling beside him, Miramanee said, "The ritual cloak is finished."
She was very close to him. Under his eyes the long black hair drooped. "If it pleases you, I will name the Joining Day."
"The Joining Day?"
"I am the daughter of chiefs," she said. "Tribal law gives me to our god."
Kirk looked at her, uncomprehending. She bowed her head. "If there is another in your heart, Kirok..."
"There is no one else, Miramanee. In my mind or in my heart."
She was still disturbed by what she feared was his lack of response. "A god's wish is above tribal law. If you do not wish-"
Kirk reached for her. "Miramanee, name the Joining Day."
The shining lashes lifted. "The sooner our happiness together begins, the longer it will last. I name-to-morrow."
The Past was a darkness, cold, impenetrable. If he was a prisoner of the Present, at least it offered this warmth, this glow in the black-lashed eyes. Kirk drew her fiercely to him. He bent his head to her mouth.
Spock had retreated to his quarters. McCoy, entering them without knocking, found him staring at his viewer. "I told you to rest, Spock! For the love of heaven, quit looking at that screen!"
The intercom spoke. Scott said furiously, "Our star drive is completely burned out! So don't ask for any more Warp Nine speed! The only thing you've left us, Spock, is impulse power!"
"Estimated repair time?" the Vulcan asked the inter-com.
"Hanging here in space? Forever. The only way to fix my engines is to get to the nearest repair base!"
McCoy snapped off the intercom. He laid his hand on Spock's shoulder. "You took that calculated risk for us, for that planet-and for Jim. That you took it is important. That you lost it-well, losing it was in your calculation."
"I accept the full responsibility for the failure, Doc-tor."
"And my responsibility is the health of this crew. You are to stop driving yourself so hard."
Spock switched the intercom back on. "Resume head-ing 883 mark 41, Mr. Chekov."
"Why, that's back to the planet!" McCoy cried. "Without warp speed, getting to it will take months!"
"Exactly 59.223 days, Doctor. And the asteroid will be four hours behind us all the way."
"Then what's the use? Even if the Captain is still alive, we may not be able to save him! We may not be able to save anything-not even the ship!" McCoy hit the wall. "You haven't heard a word I have said!
All you've been doing is staring at that damn-" He strode over to the screen and struck the image of the obelisk that had appeared on it.
"Another calculated Vulcan risk, Doctor."
Miramanee was radiant in her bridal finery. She was surrounded by women who had crowded into the tribal lodge. As one placed a chaplet of flowers on the shining black hair, she said, "This Joining Day is the end of darkened skies."
Salish dropped the hide back over the lodge's en-trance. On his moccasined feet, he walked swiftly to-ward the obelisk where the god-groom in festive dress was submitting his face to the paint Goro was applying to it from a gourd.
Goro handed the gourd to a young brave. "It is I who must tell the priestess you will follow," he said. "Wait here until I have walked the holy path to the tribal lodge."
When Goro had disappeared down the sun-dappled pat
h, Kirk, smiling, stepped from the obelisk to make his way to the lodge and Miramanee. Salish, dropping from a pine bough above him, stood facing him, block-ing the trail. His face was raw with hate.
"Get out of my way," Kirk said.
"Kirok, even though you are a god, I will not permit this joining." Salish pulled a flint knife. "Before I per-mit it, you must strike me dead."
