VARIATIONS ON A THEME 5

by

Sheila Clark and Valerie Piacentini

"'Morning, John - you're looking very harrassed. Anything I can do?"

Admiral Gerson looked up, shaking his head ruefully. "Just a slight problem of reassignment - and I thought everything was going to work out smoothly for once."

Admiral Callison came into the office and leaned over his friend's desk. "What's the difficulty?"

"I pulled the Enterprise off the colony medical checks to handle the Troyius run - now the Ambassador tells us there's been a delay. Seems Prince Arris isn't ready to meet his bride yet, so would we kindly postpone the trip! These diplomats - they've no idea of the problems involved in re-routing a Starship."

"Did you say the Enterprise?" Callison straightened abruptly. "She's free right now?"

"She is. Why - do you have a job for her?"

"I'll say! In fact, you've solved my problem, John."

"Care to tell me about it?"

"What do you know about the Amerind Project?"

"Not a lot. I've heard of it, of course... Wait a minute, it's coming back to me now." Gerson's brow furrowed in concentration. "That's where we found the first positive traces of the Preservers - an asteroid deflector, as I recall. The planet was put strictly off limits while a long-range survey was undertaken."

"That's right. Well, sensor scans have indicated an underground complex in a valley close to the site of the deflector. We want to send in a full survey team, but the trouble is, one of the native villages is slap on top of the site."

"That's tricky," Gerson commented. "Establishing a base on a planet with a primitive native population is a violation of the Prime Directive."

"Rules are made to be broken, as we both know," Callison remarked cynically. "We've got to have that base, John - think what we could learn from one of the Preservers' own installations. Somehow that tribe has got to be moved."

Gerson grunted his acknowledgement of his colleague's difficulty. "So how does the Enterprise's being available solve your problem better than any other Starship?"

"She made the first contact with the planet. Commander Kirk, her First Officer, was accidentally stranded there and actually spent several weeks living among the natives; they consider him a god. If we send the Enterprise back there, Kirk will have a head start."

"Can he handle it?"

"If anyone can. Shevas reckons he's the best First Officer in the Fleet. He's refused promotion once already because he prefers to function as Science Officer - it's a pity, for I think he's exactly the sort of man we want for Captain of one of the new ships that are under construction."

"I remember him now," Gerson said. "Spock thinks the world of him too - and you know how difficult he is to please."

"Leaving him on the Enterprise has certainly paid off, when you look at her record," Callison replied. "You'll authorise the assignment, then?"

"I'll send the order at once," Gerson promised, reaching for his intercom. "Ah well, they'll probably find this a lot more interesting than a taxi run. Still leaves me with the problem of finding a ship for the Troyian bridal mission, though, once His Highness Arris decides he's ready to settle down."

"Don't worry," Callison comforted. "With any luck they'll be through in time to take that on too."

"That'll please Spock - I don't think." Gerson grunted.

As the last notes of the music died away Kirk drew a deep breath of appreciation and shifted his weight so that he leaned closer against Spock's legs, the movement bringing the one thing lacking to complete his contentment as the Vulcan's hand dropped to rest lightly on his head.

Once, that touch would have filled him with sick horror, signalling as it did his master's satisfaction at the degrading actions Kirk had performed for his pleasure; now it was the gentle, loving touch of his bondmate, his brother, whose watchful care surrounded him, yet who guided his increasingly confident feet on the path of freedom.

With the growth of his confidence had come an increase in Kirk's social life. Often now he was to be found in the rec room in the evenings, the centre of a laughing group as he mingled with the bridge officers, who were mostly only a few years younger than he, while McCoy, who had originally introduced him to that circle on a social level, thankfully withdrew to sit in quiet conversation with his Captain.

There were no longer any of the slightly embarrassing difficulties that he had found at first. He could join in the light-hearted conversation, and his gentle humour made him popular, for he was never malicious. After some initial surprise his friends had accepted the fact that he was bonded to a Vulcan and, believing his wife to be a relative of the Captain's, respected his reticence concerning her and his loyalty to her. If the women in the crew regretted his unusually high moral standards, they did not attempt to persuade him to change them, and he no longer had to contend with hopeful propositions. And since Marlena Moreau's departure - unregretted save for some rare occasions when her expertise was missed - he had not had the embarrassment of knowing that his second in the science lab was hopelessly in love with him.

Yet although he enjoyed the company, Sulu's chatter, Chekov's sometimes outrageous remarks, Uhura's rich laughter, Kirk was most genuinely happy when he could slip away to the warm dimness of Spock's cabin for an evening of music, of quiet conversation, of the steady, undemanding affection his heart craved.

Suddenly needing to express the love he felt for the gentle Vulcan, Kirk looked up, to find the dark eyes fixed on his face.

"I know how it is," Spock said quietly. "I too am happy, Jim."

Kirk nodded. "Before... I often used to hear people say, 'I'm so happy I could burst'. I always wondered what it would be like. Now... now I know, Spock."

"Indeed." The long fingers brushed lightly against the Human's cheek, then Spock rose to replace the harp on its stand. He paused for a moment to fill two glasses with the light, delicate Vulcan wine both men so appreciated, then sat down again, handing a glass to Kirk as he did so.

For a moment they savoured the wine in silence, but the Vulcan's eyes were thoughtful as they rested on Kirk's expressive face, enjoying the contentment in the serene eyes.

At last he said, "Jim, will you tell me of your experience on the Amerind planet? We arrive there tomorrow, and it will be safer if I am fully informed."

Kirk sat up straight, hugging his knees, his eyes intent on the flickering flame in its carved holder.

"I've been wanting to tell you ever since the order came," he said quietly. "In fact, I've been reviewing my personal log just to get things clear in my mind. The ship's log... He was very careful what he entered, of course, but afterwards he told me his side of it - and I remembered my own experiences..."

"I regret causing you distress, Jim," Spock murmured, "but I must know. It is clear to me that in this universe events again followed a slightly different course from the last time."

Kirk's unwavering gaze remained fixed on the dancing flame. "We were ordered to investigate the planet because of some unusual long-distance readings. When we assumed orbit we detected an asteroid on collision course - you know about that?"

Spock nodded, and Kirk continued. "The Captain and I beamed down, and I began taking sensor readings. We'd just found the obelisk when Scotty called from the ship, and the Captain had to return. He instructed me to follow within five minutes if we were to reach the deflection point in time. I was just taking some final readings of the obelisk, so I didn't expect to take more than half that time. Anyway, my voice triggered the opening, and I fell into the underground chamber, somehow activating a beam that wiped my memory.

"It was a couple of minutes before anyone noticed that I'd vanished from the ship's sensors, and by that time the Captain had reported the threat from the asteroid. He was ordered to intercept, because Starfleet had made the connection with the Preservers, and wanted the planet at all costs. There was no time to search for me, but he reasoned that I couldn't have come to much harm; he followed orders, meaning to return for me in a few hours, but the attempt to destroy the asteroid almost crippled the ship - it took weeks to get back."

"Very similar to my own experience," Spock commented. "But what happened to you?"

"I still don't remember leaving the underground chamber - the next thing I knew I was standing on the platform outside, and two of the tribe were kneeling at my feet. They were Salish, the Medicine Chief, and Miramanee, the Priestess of the Temple - they'd seen me emerge from the obelisk, and thought me one of their gods. They hailed me as Kirok, and I - " Kirk shrugged - "I did not know that I was not. The name seemed familiar to me - not surprising when it is so like my own. I was taken to the village. Salish insisted that I take over as Medicine Chief. There was some opposition - Goro, the tribal chieftain, had been able in the past to overrule the younger Salish, but he feared loss of prestige if I was truly Kirok. He seemed convinced, though, when I revived a child who'd almost drowned - though he did say it seemed strange that a god had no memory.

"Salish was generous, though it must have been difficult for him. He was to have married Miramanee, and he loved her, but by tribal custom she belonged to the god. She was willing enough, but I sensed that she wished to be the consort of the god, not the wife of the man - it was Salish she loved. Still, I couldn't argue - I believed what they told me."

"And you remembered nothing?"

"Nothing; I had dreams - dreams that terrified me; but Salish said that it was because I was living among mortals. He believed that I had been sent for a reason, that I was to reveal the secret of the Temple to him, and he couldn't understand why I did not.

"For weeks, though, nothing happened. I was happy, living with the tribe - it began to seem that I had always been Kirok. Miramanee planned for our wedding, and I worked with the tribe - I taught them irrigation, found new crops - I was content.

"What I didn't know was that Goro had been working on Salish, planting doubts in his mind. He asked why I didn't take him into the Temple, why the dark clouds still gathered - and, slowly, Salish began to wonder...

"Then one day there was a storm, violent and unexpected. Salish said it was time to go to the Temple. I was afraid - of the storm, mostly; the idea of going out into it was terrifying. He saw my fear, and accused me of being an imposter - he really hated me then. Miramanee persuaded them to let me go to the obelisk to see what would happen. I thought - 'I am Kirok - the gods will hear me!' and forced myself to go. But they didn't, of course, and I didn't know what to do.

"Salish urged the tribe to cast me out, but Goro pushed his way up onto the platform and demanded that I be stoned to death for blasphemy; Salish finally agreed, and called to Miramanee to leave me. She... she went to him, and I saw the pleasure in his eyes that he had won her back, although I think he was also a little sorry for me.

"Goro began the stoning. There was no protection for me on the steps of the Temple; I was hurt, bleeding. Then suddenly it stopped, and I wondered why. A shimmering column of gold was forming on the platform beside me - then He stepped from it, his face distorted with hatred and anger. I heard the sound of a phaser, saw them fall - Goro, Salish, Miramanee... so many others...

"The Captain took me in his arms and I felt his touch on my face as his mind possessed mine - and I remembered everything. When I did I wanted to die.

"What he learned from my mind enabled the Captain to enter the obelisk and operate the deflector - then he came back to me. He wouldn't let McCoy beam down - he took me straight back to the ship."

"Go on, Jim," Spock encouraged as Kirk hesitated.

"Starfleet was very interested in the planet," the Human resumed. "There was an enquiry and the Captain's actions were approved - after all, he had rescued me from death. It was suggested that I go back, establish my 'divinity'; the people thought me dead, and if I seemed to live again they would believe in me, and it would make things easier in future - like now. The Captain was furious, but he couldn't defy a direct order. He made the arrangements himself, and monitored me closely. I beamed down during the sunrise ceremony at the Temple. Spock, they were terrified of me! Salish was there - he'd escaped the fire, though I don't know how. Poor Salish - he was so guilt-ridden; he said that he knew now that my seeming ignorance was the gods' way of testing his faith, and he had failed. I reassured him as best I could, and told him that he was now tribal leader as well as Medicine Chief. Goro was dead, and fourteen others... Spock, three of them were children." Kirk's voice was rough with pain as he relived the horror, and Spock reached down to lay a hand on his shoulder. Covering the warm fingers with his own, Kirk continued.

"Miramanee lived too, though she'd been hurt. There were so many injured. Some of the tribesmen were so afraid they asked if they should offer reparation - they meant human sacrifice. I forbade it, and told them if they wished to please the gods they should rebuild their lives, and strive to have more faith in the future. I said that I, or one of my people, would return one day to see if they had obeyed my commands. It was at Starfleet's order, but I felt such a hypocrite! The only good thing that came of it was that I had a chance to talk quietly to Salish. He'd always wanted to be my friend - even when he turned against me it was out of loyalty to the tribe, because he thought I'd been proved an impostor. I was glad to be able to reassure him. Then I returned to the ship."

"I can guess what followed," Spock said grimly.

"He was so jealous - of Salish, because I liked him, and of Miramanee because I'd thought myself in love with her. He punished me for each kiss - and tried to make me admit that I'd made love to her. I hadn't, but it took a meld to convince him. And that was... It'd all been so innocent and happy, and he smeared every memory with his insane hatred. Then he told me never to think of that world again - that if I did he'd find a way to destroy everything I cared about there. And he would have done it."

"Jim, I do not think it possible," Spock interrupted gently. "Starfleet Command... "

"He'd have deceived them as he deceived everyone," Kirk said bitterly. "He was clever - he always had an acceptable reason for his actions, no matter how bad they seemed. Remember what he did to Yonada? He was cleared of all blame - he was even congratulated on his courage in taking a painful action to avert a serious threat to the Federation. And when he tricked the Halkans into agreeing to supply dilithium - that was sheer blackmail, but the truth never came out; and again he was commended for his diplomacy."

"I find it unbelievable that he could have done so much harm, and never once been suspected."

Kirk shrugged. "People don't argue with success, Spock - and he was successful. And who am I to blame them? He fooled me too, when I thought he wanted my friendship. Anyway - " the Human straightened his-shoulders - "I believed his threats - I knew only too well what he could do - and I never attempted to keep up with the Amerind Project; I made myself forget - until now."

"And now you do wish to go back?" Order or not, Spock would find a logical reason for Kirk not to beam down if his friend was truly reluctant to return.

"Yes, I do. Even if it means becoming Kirok again. I don't like this assignment, Spock, but perhaps I can protect the people if I'm involved." Kirk turned so that he could look up into the Vulcan's face. "And this time - this time, you'll be with me. Oh, I know you'll have to stay on the ship, but you'll be there."

"How long do you expect to remain there?" Spock asked.

Kirk frowned. "I'm not sure. I'll make contact with Salish and re-establish myself with the tribe; then I'll get him to make the first approach to the Valley Tribe. I'm hoping to be able to convince them they've been granted some special favour by the gods, but I'll have to play it by ear - I'm not sure I'd consider it a favour to be told I've got to give up my home because the gods want it! I might need your help at some point - I'll let you know."

"I shall not be idle," Spock commented. "There is still some work to do to complete McCoy's fake research notes. Reports of a 'possible' cure for xenopolycythemia have aroused much interest - the Fleet Surgeon is anxious to begin tests."

"Which will be successful, of course." Kirk grinned. "Poor Bones - he still feels horribly guilty about accepting credit for what he calls 'another man's work'. Still, I pointed out that it was the only way we could make the treatment available - we certainly couldn't explain how we really obtained it. "

"Indeed. I - " Spock broke off as the intercom buzzed. "Spock here."

"Is Mr. Kirk with you, Captain?"

"A moment, Lieutenant."

Kirk scrambled to his feet and moved to the desk. "Yes, Uhura?"

"Mr. Chekov asked me to inform you that we are now within scanning range of the Amerind planet."

"Thank you - I'm on my way." He snapped the viewer off and turned to Spock. "I want to run a full survey myself before I beam down," he explained. "I'll report to you when I have the results."

"Very well, Jim - I will see you in the morning." Spock touched his fingers to Kirk's. "Don't work too late."

"I won't," Kirk smiled. "Thank you for the music, Spock. Goodnight."

The door closed behind him, and with a sigh of reluctance Spock moved to his desk, eyeing with disfavour the pile of reports awaiting his attention.

The following morning the senior officers gathered in the briefing room to hear the First Officer's report before he beamed down to the planet.

McCoy, who had arrived early, was talking to Uhura and Charlene Masters when the door slid open behind him, and the appreciative glances of the two women made him turn round.

Kirk had just come in. He was wearing a fringed costume of soft leather patterned after the one he had worn as Kirok, and his hair was held back by a beaded headband - the silver badge of the Medicine Chief had been torn away by Goro before the stoning.

"Well, now," McCoy drawled. "That sure is some outfit, Jim."

"It makes you look different." Charlene wasn't quite sure in what way; she only knew that the friendly but shy young First Officer was also a disturbingly attractive man.

"It suits you," Uhura agreed. "You should get out of uniform more often, Jim," she added with an approving smile.

"Thank you, ladies." Kirk coloured faintly, but smiled. He felt at ease with Uhura and Charlene, knowing that they respected his bonding - their admiration, though sincere, was untouched by desire. "We gods do have to keep up appearances."

They were still laughing when Spock walked into the room, his serene expression hiding the satisfaction he felt at Kirk's completely natural accepance by, and of, the women. One day, perhaps -

He pushed the thought aside, and inclined his head in greeting. "Ladies, gentlemen - be seated," he murmured. "And Mr. Kirk - you do make a most convincing god."

"Thank you, Captain." Kirk's eyes met Spock's as with a grin he slid into his seat, but at once his expression grew serious. "I have the latest survey reports on the planet," he continued, inserting a tape into the viewer. "This is the area which interests Starfleet, this valley here. Unfortunately, one of the native tribes has made it their home." He knew he was repeating facts known to some of his audience, but everything had to be clear for those who were less well informed.

"Your tribe?" McCoy asked.

"No, they're further to the west. I don't know these people, and it could be difficult to persuade them to move."

"Do you have any plan?" Spock asked, knowing he did not.

"Not really." Kirk shrugged. "I thought I'd go down, talk to Salish, and see what he knows about them - there is regular contact between all the tribes, so he will at least be able to tell me something."

"I don't like it," McCoy frowned. "You'll be on your own down there."

Kirk smiled reassuringly. "I'll be all right, Bones - it'll be safe enough to take my communicator. I hope I won't have to use it if anyone's around, but if I do... Well, gods are supposed to be capable of 'magic' - a talking box might scare them, but they won't be too surprised." He turned to Uhura. "I'll establish a regular contact pattern - probably in the evenings - to report on what's been happening. If you need to contact me urgently you can signal me, otherwise wait for my regular call."

"Yes, Mr. Kirk."

"That's nearly everything, I think, Captain," Kirk concluded. "Miss Masters has tied in an optional sound circuit to the transporter system - it'll operate normally, but if necessary I can make my comings and goings a little more spectacular - I'll use it on my first beam-down."

"Very dramatic," Spock said drily as his officers began to rise. "Miss Masters, instruct the Transporter Chief to maintain a fix on Mr. Kirk's position at all times. He is unlikely to require emergency beam-up, but should it become necessary I do not want any time wasted in locking on to him."

"Yes, Captain." Masters showed no surprise at the order. The Captain's concern for his First Officer's safety had always been marked - she remembered Sulu saying that he didn't understand why Spock didn't just assign Kirk a permanent bodyguard and have done with it. When she had first been assigned to the Enterprise, Masters had wondered if in fact the Captain was not a little too protective, but she'd changed her mind when she saw that Kirk took his fair share of risks.

As the others filed out of the room McCoy paused, glancing from Spock to Kirk. "Take care, Jim," he said gruffly.

"Stop worrying, Bones - what can happen to me when the ship is within call?"

"More or less anything, knowing you," McCoy retorted, "I'll be in sickbay if you want me, Spock."

The Doctor left, and Spock and Kirk walked together to the turbolift.

"Transporter Room," the Vulcan ordered, then he glanced at his First Officer. "Nevertheless, Jim, McCoy is right. Be careful."

"I will," Kirk promised. With this man it was not necessary to pretend - Spock knew as well as he that no mission, however simple, was guaranteed safe. "Although I'm sure everything will go well."

"Perhaps." After a moment the Vulcan continued very quietly, "I used to watch him beam down sometimes, knowing he was walking into danger, and wished that I could forbid him to go without me. Now I have that power - and I cannot use it."

"Because there are some things you can't protect me from," Kirk said, recalling Spock's own words. "I think, though, that what we've found is worth the risks -don't you?"

"Yes," Spock agreed simply.

The lift slowed and stopped; the walk to the transporter room was too short. Chief Kyle looked up from the console as they entered.

"Co-ordinates laid in, Captain."

"Thank you, Mr. Kyle. I will operate the controls myself. You may go."

"Sir." With a nod of acknowledgement Kyle left, and Spock turned to Kirk.

"Jim..."

"I know." Kirk rested his hand on Spock's shoulder. "I want to delay too - but it's no use, is it?" He met the dark eyes. "You'll be there when I call?"

"Of course. And Jim - " For a moment Spock's fingers brushed Kirk's forehead. "If you should need me - if you are in danger and cannot use the communicator, remember our link. It is stronger now, perhaps strong enough."

Kirk smiled. "I've felt my awareness of you increasing steadily since the bonding; it's very reassuring."

And I know all is well with you, Spock thought. Aloud, he said, "I used to wonder, Jim, what it would be like to be bonded. In my former world it was impossible, but when the Commander awakened my mind I absorbed his need for such a link. Now I know why."

"Thank you, Spock." For a moment their hands touched and lingered, then Kirk moved to his place on the transporter platform. "Is it time?" he asked.

Spock studied a small viewing screen beside the console. "Yes - they are in position. Are you ready?"

Kirk nodded. "Energise," he said quietly.

Charlene Masters' adjustment to the transporter was slight but effective. The chiming musical notes that accompanied the operation of the controls broke into the reverent silence, and the kneeling group looked up, startled by the unfamiliar sound.

There, on the very steps of the Temple, sunlight gathered into a shimmering column of golden fire that swirled and steadied into a familiar shape.

"Kirok!" The exclamation burst from the lips of the Medicine Chief, and with a low moan of fear the worshippers lowered their eyes in dread.

"My people, do not fear me - I do not come in anger." The voice of the god was soft, gentle. "Salish, come here."

Trembling, the Chief rose to his feet and mounted the steps, not daring to lift his gaze. He would have knelt, but firm hands caught his shoulders, preventing him.

"Look at me."

Nervously, Salish looked up. The golden eyes were smiling, warm with affection and understanding. A vast relief flooded through the young Indian, and he smiled. "My lord, how may we serve you?"

"I have come to walk again among my people, for I loved this world."

"Lord, what of the Destroyer?"

"The Destroyer?"

"The... the dark one - the dealer of death. He took you..."

"The one you call The Destroyer is my guardian, Salish - he acts only to avenge any harm done to me. Do not fear - I think he will not be needed again."

"You return in peace? Ah, my lord, you are truly merciful."

"My name is Kirok, Salish - call me that again. I promised I would return to prove that the gods are not angry. Let me walk among you as I did before, in peace and friendship."

"So be it, Kirok. Your Lodge stands empty, for I always hoped that I would live to see your return. Come - the people will rejoice this day, for they bitterly regret that they heeded the words of Goro - as do I."

"We will not speak of it. Let us go."

Little, really, had changed. Kirk recognised many faces he knew as he walked through the village, surrounded at a respectful distance by the people of the tribe. Children, too young to have been at the Temple on what had passed into tribal lore as the Day of the Destroyer, clustered around, their eyes wide as they recognised the figure of their god, familiar to them from their lessons.

Salish halted before one lodge, more elaborate than the rest, and nearest to the one Kirk had been given on his last visit. He beckoned, and two children came forward shyly.

"My son Sanuya and my daughter Owissa," Salish said, pride in his voice.

Kirk looked down and smiled. The boy returned his gaze with respectful interest, but the girl kept her eyes lowered. He reached out and lifted her chin. Owissa was lovely, a miniature edition of Miramanee.

"You have fine children, Salish. But where is their mother?"

The Chief hesitated. "She is within the lodge. Since the day of our shame she comes seldom among the people, for she acknowledges her sin."

"Sin? What sin?"

"She was chosen by the god, and doubted. Her own father threw the first stone. She knows that she is unworthy of forgiveness, for all the others have healed - only she still bears the mark of her shame."

"I would like to see her." Kirk's voice was gentle, but firm.

"As you command." Salish raised his voice. "Miramanee, come forth. It is the wish of Kirok."

There was a short pause, then the door curtain was pulled aside and a cloaked form emerged to fall at Kirk's feet, quivering in terror. Kirk reached down and lifted the woman to her feet; she obeyed, but pulled the hood of her cloak closer around her face.

Dreading what he would find, but prepared for it, Kirk pulled the hood back, ignoring the low gasp of fear - if he was right, this cruelty was the kindest answer.

The phaser had caught her left side, its force paralysing the muscles of the arm; her face, unprotected by clothing, was seared with the angry, raised scar tissues of a phaser burn.

Kirk touched the scar gently. "Does it hurt still?"

"Only a little, my lord." Her eyes would not meet his. "It is less than I deserve. Even in anger Kirok is merciful."

"I am not angry, Miramanee, and your suffering will soon be ended. Come to the Temple at sunset with the others."

"I have not dared," she whispered, "lest The Destroyer should remember my crime."

"The Destroyer is leashed under my command, and I tell you to come," Kirk said.

"Then I will obey."

Kirk released her, and she drew the hood about her face once more before vanishing back into the lodge; but he was satisfied that she would come. He turned to Salish. "I would rest."

Salish escorted him to the lodge, and Kirk looked round in surprise - he might have stepped out only five minutes previously.

"We keep it always prepared," Salish explained. "We did not know when you would come." He called, and two young women of the tribe entered, bearing trays of food.

"Eat with me," Kirk invited, gesturing the man to sit, "and report on how you have cared for my people."

Over the meal Kirk listened and Salish recounted the history of the tribe since his last visit. As the god had commanded, the offices of Tribal and Medicine Chief had been combined, and on Salish had fallen the responsibility of rebuilding the life of the tribe.

The dead had been buried, the wounded tended; in time, all but Miramanee had recovered. She had, however, been replaced as Priestess, for she had rejected the god to whom she had been betrothed. Salish had married her, for he had never ceased to love her, and he knew her repentance was as genuine as his own. Trusting in the gentleness he had seen in Kirok, he had defended her against those who called for her death to appease the Destroyer - had not Kirok himself returned briefly to them with words of peace? A year later his son Sanuya had been born, followed a year later by Owissa; Miramanee had found consolation in her children, though she was now largely ignored by the tribe.

The slaying and resurrection of Kirok had been followed by two years of poor harvests and severe winters, proof that the gods were indeed angry at the treatment of their brother. Only trading with neighbouring tribes had averted starvation, but the People of the Valley had been generous.

Kirk pricked up his ears at that, and Salish told him that the Valley dwellers were a peaceful people, farmers and fishermen; although many of their customs were different, there had never been any hostility between the tribes.

"Salish, can you arrange a meeting with the Elders of the People of the Valley?" Kirk asked. "I would speak with them."

"It will be done, Kirok."

"Now, I wish to rest. Go to Miramanee, and reassure her. Bring her to the Temple at sunset - let the whole tribe witness my forgiveness."

Salish bowed respectfully, and left. As soon as he was alone, Kirk took out his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"Enterprise - Spock here. Is anything wrong?"

"No - all's going well so far, Captain." Mindful that Uhura would be monitoring communications, Kirk maintained a degree of formality. "Could you have McCoy patch in, please."

Seconds later, McCoy's voice sounded. "Here, Jim."

"Listen in, will you, Bones - this concerns you. Spock, I've made contact with Salish. The tribe still revere Kirok, and they've accepted me. The trouble is, they still fear me too, and I'd like to correct that."

"What do you propose?"

"Miramanee - Salish's wife - was injured when 'you' rescued me last time. She's partially paralysed, and her face is badly phaser-burned. I'd like your permission to bring her up to the ship, have McCoy operate. If I can show them she's been healed, it should convince them that as she's been forgiven, there's nothing to fear."

"Dr. McCoy?"

"I'd have to see her, of course, but it should be possible. Phaser injuries look serious, but we have enough practice in treating them. When do you want to bring her up?"

"There's a ceremony at the Temple at sunset. I thought we'd beam up from there."

"Hmmm. Well, if I have everything ready, and operate as soon as you arrive, she should be able to go back in the morning. I suggest you sedate her just before you beam up, though - it's better she doesn't see anything of the ship."

"Do you agree, Captain?"

"I see no objection. Report to me when you arrive, Mr. Kirk."

"I will. Kirk out."

It seemed that the entire population of the village had assembled before the Temple when Kirk mounted the steps, Salish at his side. With them walked Miramanee, the hood drawn close around her ruined face. Behind them the villagers knelt, half fearful lest the avenging demon might again leap from the golden fire to claim his charge.

"My people, do not fear." Kirk put all the reassurance he could muster into his voice. "You failed the first test, but you have been given a second chance. I cannot restore those already slain, for they are in my brother's hand, but in token that the gods have forgiven you, I will remove the brand of shame from the woman Miramanee. I take her now to my home - we will return at sunrise. Salish, stand clear."

The Chief moved aside, and Kirk placed his hand on Miramanee's shoulder, concealing the hypo he pressed into her arm. She slumped against him, and he quickly activated the emergency beam-up signal on his communicator. At once the musical chiming signalled the golden shimmer of the transporter, and before the awe-struck eyes of the tribe the two figures faded and vanished.

McCoy was waiting with a medical trolley in the transporter room; Kirk placed Miramanee's unconscious body on it, and watched as the doctor made a brief examination; then the orderly wheeled it away.

"Do what you can for her, Bones; I was... fond of her."

"I will, Jim. You'll be with Spock?"

Kirk nodded. "There's no point in going down again until morning."

The two men parted at the turbolift, McCoy heading for Sickbay, Kirk for Spock's quarters. The door slid aside as he reached it, and he stepped inside, aware of the warmth that always filled him in his bondmate's presence.

"Jim."

They touched hands for a moment in ritual greeting, then Spock stepped back and looked at Kirk.

"Relax - I've only been away a few hours."

"Is it so obvious?" Spock said ruefully. "Is everything going well?"

"Fine. Salish told me he's expecting a trading party from the Valley tribe in a few days. He's going to talk to them about arranging a meeting with their Council of Elders. I'll visit their settlement, and try to win their confidence; after that... " He shrugged. "Somehow, I've got to persuade them to leave the valley. I don't think it'll be easy."

"Have you any plan in mind?"

"Not yet. I'll probably have to take advantage of my 'divinity', but other than that, I don't know. It all depends on the situation, on how they react to me... on so many things. I'll take it as it comes."

"That seems best. Is the woman on board?"

"She's in surgery now. Bones thinks it'll be simple enough. Poor Miramanee. But she escaped lightly in a way. If He had known at the time that I was supposed to marry her, he'd have killed her. As it was, when he did find out he punished me instead."

"Barbarian!"

"He was very possessive. He wouldn't believe I hadn't slept with her; he kept on and on about it until I begged him to link with me and see for himself. That was what he wanted, of course - he could have forced the link if he'd wanted to. Even then, knowing I was fond of her, he accused me of treachery."

"You? My t'hy'la, how could he have been so blind?"

"Perhaps, if we had bonded, he'd have felt surer of me. He was insecure, jealous... Spock - you don't resent Miramanee, do you?"

The Vulcan smiled, and touched Kirk's face lightly. "I know my bondmate. Since you do not plan to return to the planet until morning, how would you like to spend the evening, Jim?"

Kirk glanced at the chessboard. "Well - there's a new strategy I've been preparing..."

As the first rays of the sun touched the tip of the obelisk the men and women of the tribe sank expectantly to their knees. Salish, as the servant of Kirok, stood at the top of the steps holding - as the god had commanded - a disc of brightly-polished metal. Hope and fear warred in his heart - would Kirok do as he had promised, or was there further punishment to come? No, the god was gentle, truthful...

Exactly as full sunlight struck the Temple the musical tones chimed softly, and the glowing brightness formed into the shape of Kirok, accompanied by Miramanee's cloaked figure. Kirok stepped forward, his arms raised in greeting.

"Behold my promise, and my forgiveness," he said. Stepping back he pulled the cloak from Miramanee, and drew her forward to face the people.

The drab clothes she had worn were gone; she had been dressed by Tamura in a rich ceremonial costume produced by the fabricators, as Kirk's had been. Uhura had arranged her hair in the traditional fashion, revealing her smooth, unmarred face. With disbelieving joy Salish gazed at the Miramanee he had known before the coming of the Destroyer.

"Salish? What is wrong, Husband? What has happened?" Miramanee looked at Salish, at Kirk, at the reverent tribespeople.

In response to the signal from Kirk Salish held up the metal disc, of the type that served the tribe as a mirror. Miramanee peered into it, then lifted her hand to touch her smooth cheek.

"How can this be?" she whispered wonderingly. "I was here, there was darkness for a moment... and I am healed. My arm... even my arm is whole again."

"Look at the sun, Miramanee," Kirk said gently. "It was sunset when you last stood here - now it is morning. My servants have healed you in token of my forgiveness."

"I remember nothing," the woman whispered.

"It is better so. The home of the gods is not for mortals, and I do not wish you to be troubled by memories you cannot understand."

"Truly, the mercy of Kirok is great." Miramanee sank down to kneel at Kirk's feet. "How may I repay such kindness?"

"There is no need." Kirk lifted her to her feet, slightly uncomfortable with the reverence she and the tribe were showing him; but it was the only way to satisfy Starfleet's orders without upsetting the harmony of this world. He pushed aside the question that occasionally had troubled him since the order came through - how would the Captain have handled this situation? "Salish," he continued, "you seem troubled. Are you not pleased?"

"Forgive me, Kirok." The Chief lowered his head. Unable to suppress the slight quiver in his voice he asked, "Is it your wish to claim the woman Miramanee? It is your right..."

Kirk smiled. "I wish to bring only happiness, not sorrow. Miramanee is your wife, Salish, the mother of your children, and I do not claim her." He added hastily, as he saw the doubt mixed with the joy in his friend's eyes, "She is in all ways worthy, but I am now bound to another of my own kind, and that joining cannot be broken by any mortal. Go to your children, Miramanee, and be happy."

The miraculous healing of Miramanee had dispelled the last of the tribe's fear that Kirok had not truly forgiven them. Kirk moved among them, recording, studying, filling in time as he waited for the meeting to be arranged with the Elders of the Valley tribe. Nothing could be done until the trading party arrived, but Kirk could not consider the time wasted as he enjoyed the tranquillity of the life he remembered.

There was little to report or to discuss, but each evening Spock took Kirk's call himself; or, if his duties permitted, he would beam down to the lodge to spend an hour or two with his friend. Kirk awaited that time eagerly; although Salish and the others revered him, and he felt a deep affection for these people, only Spock could fill the emptiness within him - the lonely child he had been had bequeathed to the man a craving for companionship and understanding that was almost a physical need.

And Spock understood. He listened with genuine interest to Kirk's account of his time, never deriding the simple life of the tribe, a life that Kirk enjoyed and that the Captain had mocked; he could appreciate their culture for the richness it held, and for the fulfilment it gave its people.

One evening Spock did not beam down until very late, for the Lodge, normally occupied only by Kirk, had held visitors that day - the trading party from the Valley tribe had come to visit the god.

"How did they react to you, Jim?" Spock asked when they had exchanged greetings.

Kirk shrugged. "Very respectfully, but a little wary. They've heard of me - of Kirok - of course, but they're not quite sure that I'm really a god; at the same time, they don't want to offend me in case I am. Miramanee's appearance startled them. They'd seen her before, when they visited Salish, and her healing seems miraculous to them. Anyway, they've agreed to invite me to their village, and they'll allow me to address their Council of Elders, so that's the first hurdle over. Salish left with them to make the arrangements - he'll return in a day or two to escort me to their village. He says that they've decided to treat me as a god until they can prove I'm not - he was quite apologetic about their lack of faith. But they didn't get the lesson that this tribe did. They're being sensible, really, when you think about it."

"Then all we can do is wait," Spock commented.

"Yes." Kirk rose and poured wine. "This isn't as good as Vulcan wine, but it isn't bad. You look tired, Spock."

"I have been much occupied - McCoy and I have finished faking the research notes for the xenopolycythemia cure. I'd like you to check them over when you get back just in case there's something we've missed."

"I shouldn't think there will be, but I'll check." They drank the wine slowly.

Spock savoured the flavour. "I agree, Jim - a good wine, but not of the standard of our wines." He put down his glass with a barely concealed sigh of weariness.

Kirk caught it. "Go on back to the ship, Spock, and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I do require sleep." The Vulcan rose and touched Kirk's shoulder. "Goodnight, Jim."

Kirk spent the following day in the fields studying the crops, noting how the improvements he had suggested on his last visit had increased the prospective harvest. The wild grain he had introduced was growing strongly, and Wenona, who was in charge of the crops, told him proudly that each year gave the tribe a greater reserve against the hardships of winter - indeed, last season she had been able to supply seed grain to one of the smaller tribes whose supply had been attacked by disease. The tribe had seen it as a sign that Kirok might have forgiven them at least in part for their treatment of him, and as an indication of their continued repentance had given the seed grain freely, as a gift. Kirk nodded his approval; he had seen too many planets torn by internal strife and if it took fear of the gods to encourage co-operation between the tribes, then fear of the gods was not necessarily a bad thing.

The herd of cattle was flourishing, the tribe's horses were strong and sound, and following another suggestion of Kirk's, the herdsmen had begun keeping a small flock of goats; their hair, milk and meat had further enriched the tribe, although again fear of seeming to take advantage of the generosity of the god they had treated so badly had restrained greed.

Content with all he saw, Kirk returned wearily in the evening to the lodge, and to the meal that was waiting for him. He had just finished eating when Nahtanha, one of the girls chosen to serve him, entered and bowed respectfully.

"Kirok, Sakima begs to speak with you."

"Sakima? I'm afraid I don't..."

"The boy to whom you gave life, Kirok. He is greatly distressed."

"Ask him to come in." Kirk remembered the child; and remembered too that Lumo, the young warrior who had pulled him from the water, had been one of those to die under the Captain's phaser.

The boy entered nervously, carrying a large basket which he set down carefully before kneeling with deliberate care at Kirk's feet.

"Kirok, I plead for your aid."

Crouching down, Kirk lifted the boy to his feet; the dark eyes were full of tears, the small chin trembled, but Sakima returned Kirk's gaze fearlessly.

"How may I help you, Sakima?"

Taking courage from Kirk's smile, the child raised the lid of the basket. Within lay a half-grown puppy, a beautiful animal, but the bright eyes were filmed over, the coat was harsh and staring, the thin sides laboured with the difficutly of breathing.

"His name is Stormwind," the child said proudly. "My father gave him to me. But he is sick, Kirok - can you make him well?"

"Sit down, and I'll see what I can do."'

Quickly Kirk examined the animal, biting his lip as even his gentle touch produced a whimper of pain. At last he sat back on his heels, wondering how to say what must be said, how to soften the harsh truth.

A small hand was laid on his arm. "Kirok? You will help him?"

Sighing, Kirk sat down and gestured the child to his side. "Sakima, you must be very brave. Stormwind is too sick - I cannot help him."

"But you are a god!" The child gazed at him trustfully.

"Even I cannot give life," Kirk said gently. "That is only for the Great Spirit."

"But my father said... He told me that I was dead - and you gave me life again."

"A mistake was made, and it was given to me to correct it," Kirk explained carefully. "The Great Spirit gives to each living thing a span of days, and not the greatest of us can extend that span by one heartbeat."

"Then he must die?"

"Yes, child." Kirk looked down at the animal, wishing fervently that he need say no more, but the creature's suffering tore at his heart. "But Sakima - it is for you to say when."

"I do not understand, Kirok."

"Stormwind is in great pain, and it will grow worse. This illness kills slowly. Soon he will be unable to move, then unable to eat. He will be very much afraid. But if you wish it, I can give him peace now. He will sleep, and not wake. There will be no more pain."

"Must I decide?"

"He is your pet - your friend. It is for you to say the word."

The child reached out and touched the puppy's head. Kirk looked away as with a frantic effort the little animal turned to lick his master's hand.

"There is nothing else you can do?"

"Nothing," Kirk said gently.

"Then do it quickly, Kirok. His pain is great."

"If you hold him he will not know what is happening." Kirk reached for the hypo McCoy had given him in case of emergencies, and set the maximum dose of sedative, then pressed it to the animal's side. In a few moments the difficult breathing quietened, and Stormwind lay still. Sakima sobbed once, and hugged his pet tightly.

"Do you wish me to...?"

"I will bury him." Sakima rose to his feet and bowed with awkward dignity. "I thank you, Kirok."

"Sakima, listen to me." Kirk could see the effort the boy was making to restrain tears. "It hurts, I know, but in time you will remember the joy; and then you will be glad that you had the courage to spare him pain."

"Kirok, you are crying." The boy's voice was touched with wonder.

"It hurts me too, little one." Kirk smiled reassuringly. "Now go in peace."

Kirk watched him go, then raised his hand to rub the tears from his eyes, glad for the child's sake that they had fallen. He had sensed that Sakima had wanted to cry, but was afraid that it might appear cowardly. If a god could weep, however, so might a man - Sakima would sob out his grief, and find healing in the tears.

Turning back into the lodge Kirk dismissed Nahtanha with a smile, needing to be alone. Soon it would be time to call Spock - but first he must deal with certain memories.

On the Enterprise McCoy buzzed at Spock's door, and entered as soon as permission was given. Spock looked up from the pile of reports that littered his desk. "Yes, McCoy?"

"Sorry to bother you, Spock - I'm probably jumping at shadows... "

"Most unlikely. What is wrong?"

"I'm not sure. Since I knew you'd be tied up with those reports, I took Jim's call myself - thought he'd be glad of someone to talk to... "

"And?" the Vulcan prompted when McCoy hesitated.

"I got the feeling he's upset about something. He denied it, but - well, you know how Jim is. He told me not to worry you - so, of course, here I am - worrying you."

"Mmm." Spock tapped his stylus on the desk. "If he was ill or injured, he would have the sense to report it." He pushed the reports aside decisively and rose. "These can wait - I will beam down at once. Is he in the lodge?"

"Yes, and he's alone." McCoy grinned in relief. "I thought you might want to go down, so I asked Kyle to lay in the co-ordinates."

"Thank you, Doctor." Spock nodded reassuringly, and turned to go.

Kirk was sitting hunched up on the floor gazing into the fire when Spock materialised in the dimly-lit lodge. He looked round and smiled, holding out his hand.

"I can't fool McCoy," he said wryly. "I know you'd come."

Spock took the outstretched hand, noting as he did so that Kirk seemed unusually cold, and sank down to join him.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked.

"Yes, please." Kirk looked at Spock, smiling as the Vulcan began to chafe warmth back into his frozen fingers.

"Something happened today," he began abruptly. "I had to tell Sakima - one of the children - that his pet was dying. I knew there was nothing to be done - there was a dog at the orphanage that contracted the same illness, and when it's that far advanced there's no hope. All that could be done was to end the creature's pain. Poor child - he was so brave..."

"It is always distressing to bring grief to a child," Spock said quietly.

"No, it's not that - it's something far more selfish. A memory. May I tell you?"

"Of course." Spock tightened his grip, then drew Kirk close to his side, pulling a blanket around his shivering body. Kirk rested his head against the Vulcan's shoulder, finding comfort and reassurance in the contact.

"I told you that He never allowed me any friends - I was totally dependent on him for companionship, such as it was. Once, though, he made an exception..."

Contact with the planet Vanla had aroused great interest in the Federation, not least on Vulcan. Investigations seemed to indicate that the vulcanoid Vanlans were, in fact, true Vulcans, their ancestors transported to the planet by the Preservers at some point during the nomadic stage of their history. Their civilisation had developed along unusual and interesting lines - while still retaining much of their nomadic tribal culture, the Vanlans had advanced rapidly in science and technology. It was their achievement of interplanetary flight that had brought them to the notice of the Federation.

First Contact established that the Vanlans were willing to discuss membership of the Federation; to smooth out any possible problems it was decided that the diplomatic mission would be composed mainly of Vulcans, and Captain Spock of the Enterprise was ordered to Vanla to make arrangements for the delegation, as it was felt that he would be in the best position to learn of any possible cultural differences that should be taken into account. Not only was Spock, since the loss of the Intrepid, the only Vulcan Captain in Starfleet, he was also the nephew of the leader of the delegation, Ambassador Selek.

Kirk felt a sudden thrill of hope when the official orders came from Starfleet. The Enterprise was to take Spock to Vanla, but while he began talks with the leaders, she was to return to Starbase 16 to allow the crew a short period of shore leave; she would then return to Vanla to pick up the Captain.

The prospect of a few weeks' freedom from his master was exciting enough, but there was more. Once on the Starbase he could request transfer to another ship - and if he took his accumulated leave there would be no risk of his being on the Enterprise when she returned to Vanla. He would be free at last.

Kirk made plans as he went quietly about his duties, careful not to betray himself to the Captain. He would be sorry to leave McCoy and Scotty, of course, but perhaps they would serve together again one day. It was a small price to pay for freedom, and the hope of a normal life at last.

Schooling his face to an expression of calm, Kirk leaned down. "Sir, it's time," he murmured. "We've reached Vanla, and you're due to beam down in an hour."

The dark eyes opened and gazed into his mockingly. "Then you had better get ready, James. Your dress uniform is laid out in your cabin, and my yeoman packed for you last night."

"Packed for me? What do you mean?"

"You are coming with me, of course. A Vulcan Captain cannot arrive for such an important meeting unattended." Spock gripped his wrist, twisting it viciously. "You little fool, did you think you had deceived me? I had no intention of leaving you behind. It amused me to permit you to play your game, but this is reality. You will not escape me, James - I will kill you rather than lose you."

"Why?" Kirk demanded, too shocked by the failure of his hopes to employ his usual caution in dealing with his unpredictable master. "You don't really want me - anyone would do."

"Ah, but you are so deliciously responsive, James. You loathe my touch, and yet you respond. I do not as yet know why, or why I am drawn to you, but I will solve your mystery one day." He reached out and traced the brand on Kirk's shoulder. "Besides, it pleases me to own such a beautiful possession, and I do appreciate beauty - in all its forms. Now go and dress."

With a shudder, Kirk obeyed. His customary control was back in place when he stood with Spock in the transporter room bidding farewell to the unsuspecting McCoy. He longed to tell the doctor the truth, but dared not; Spock's control of his mind forbade it, and even if he did manage to break the conditioning, his story would sound so improbable that McCoy would surely believe him deranged. He knew already that Spock's skill at self control could deceive even the computer's lie detector skills, and there was no proof he could offer in support of his charges.

Even worse was his dread of the Captain's reaction if he even suspected that he had confided in McCoy. The Vulcan had made it very clear that his property was to be permitted no friends - he had successfully isolated him, forcing him to discourage every friendly approach, and transferring everyone who persisted, to the extent that the young First Officer was considered aloof and withdrawn by the crew.

McCoy was in a slightly different category. It was not possible to prevent the Medical Officer from carrying out his duties without arousing suspicion, and McCoy would certainly be curious if Kirk shunned all social contact. Reluctantly, the Captain permitted the association, but supervised it closely, usually finding an excuse to be present during Kirk's medical examinations. When he could not, he questioned the Human closely afterwards, employing the mind link to assure himself that Kirk concealed nothing of what had taken place; and he used the same method to monitor Kirk's personal association with the doctor. Kirk therefore ensured that it was kept as superficial as possible.

Knowing nothing of all this, McCoy merely assumed that Kirk was a shy, withdrawn type of person who made friends only with difficulty. It was a pity, but not all that unusual; and, McCoy reasoned, it was not that Kirk was totally friendless - he did spend a lot of his free time with the Captain. Probably suited him down to the ground - they were both the quiet, reserved type.

Knowing Spock's possessiveness, and afraid of it, Kirk knew that he could not take the slightest risk; for McCoy's sake he must remain silent. The prospect of the coming weeks, however, when he would effectively be alone with the Captain in a vulcanoid society where there would be no restraint on his behaviour, gave Kirk a pallor that the doctor could not help but notice.

"Jim, are you all right? You look terrible!"

"I'm fine, Bones - just didn't sleep too well last night." Kirk produced a smile that did nothing to convince the doctor.

"Is something wrong, McCoy?" The Captain had approached silently, his attitude one of concern.

"I'm not sure Commander Kirk should beam down," McCoy answered. "He doesn't look well." His scanner hummed busily. "Hmm, nothing's showing up... Still, Vanla's a trying climate for a Human - I really think..."

"We will leave the decision to Commander Kirk, since you can produce no medical evidence," Spock interrupted smoothly. "Do you feel you can cope, Mr. Kirk? Or shall I assign another aide?"

"I'm fine, honestly, Bones." Kirk knew the Vulcan had no intention of allowing him to remain behind. "I want to go."

"If you're sure," McCoy said doubtfully. "Try to stay out of the sun at least, and remember to take your salt tablets."

"Just stop fussing." Kirk grinned, a more convincing effort this time, and McCoy relaxed slightly.

"See you in a few weeks, then."

"So long, Bones." Kirk joined Captain Spock on the transporter platform, and the Vulcan nodded to Kyle.

"Energise!"

They were met by Lanyo, paramount chief of the tribes of Vanla, a powerful warrior whose physical strength was matched by his brilliant mind. He was accompanied by the tribal chiefs, who served as a planetary council, each the overlord of his own tribe, but subject to Lanyo.

The first meeting was purely formal, an introductory session for both sides, but the visitors were received with great courtesy. While the Captain talked with Lanyo, Kirk, who had expected to be largely ignored, found himself the centre of the attention of most of the younger warriors. Although there was no sign of it in his outward manner, Kirk knew that the Vulcan was displeased; he remained as close as he could, nervously hoping that the Captain would realise that he could not ignore them without causing offence, yet very much aware that his master's reaction was totally unpredictable. It was his Human appearance that intrigued them - surely the Captain would concede that?

At last Lanyo dismissed the lesser chiefs and beckoned Kirk to join the Vulcan at his side. Servants brought wine, then retired. Lanyo raised his goblet.

"I drink to the reunion of our peoples," he said to the Captain, then, turning to Kirk, added, "and to our new friends."

The two echoed the toast, then Lanyo continued, "You will be quartered in the guest wing of my palace, Captain, and my servants will attend you. Ask for anything you require, and it will be provided."

"My thanks - you are a most generous host." The Captain inclined his head.

"If you wish, a bedmate will be provided."

The Captain smiled, and reached out to touch Kirk's cheek. "That will not be necessary," he answered. "I am adequately served in that area."

"I suspected, but was not certain." Lanyo eyed Kirk appraisingly. "Are all his race as beautiful?"

The Captain stiffened. "Chief Lanyo, you are too free with your comments," he said coldly.

"You are handfast?"

"Yes," the Captain answered without hesitation.

"Then I ask your pardon, Captain."

"No offence was intended," the Vulcan conceded. "His people do not regard these matters as we do, Chief, but I have won him - and I keep him close." His voice held a note of warning.

"I understand you, my friend," Lanyo chuckled. "My own companion is as jealously guarded. Have no fear - he will not be approached, I pledge my word."

The Captain nodded his thanks, and shortly afterwards Lanyo summoned a servant to show them to their quarters, suggesting that they settle in, then join the chiefs at dinner that evening.

Knowing that the servant could not understand them, Kirk glanced curiously at the Captain as they walked through the palace. "What did the Chief mean when he asked if you were handfast?" he asked.

"Handfast is the Vanlan term for bonded," the Vulcan explained. "Male matings are common here, but as on Vulcan, no-one would dream of violating a bond. I will not have you pawed by these barbarians."

"I couldn't help it, sir," Kirk whispered. "I didn't know how to stop them without - "

"It does not matter." The Captain dismissed it impatiently, and Kirk relaxed slightly. "You will, however, inform me if such a thing occurs again."

"Of course," Kirk promised quietly. "Sir - you've never... acknowledged me before. Why now?"

"On this world you must be bondmate, slave or free man. If you are known to be free and unbonded, I cannot prevent any of the warriors approaching you, and you are foolish enough to get yourself into a situation you cannot handle. As a slave, any free man who finds you alone may force you, and you belong only to me. It is best that you are believed to be my companion - that gives you all the protection you need." He glanced mockingly at Kirk. "Unless, of course, you would welcome a little variety? I could easily arrange... " He broke off, laughing at the anguished appeal in Kirk's eyes.

As so often, Kirk was left wondering if his master was serious. He knew that Captain Spock hated anyone else to touch him, and yet he had often made similar references - there was the night he had wagered with Tal, Kirk's body the stake... He had won, but he might have lost... Kirk was never certain that one day the Vulcan might not really decide to amuse himself by watching Kirk with another man.

"Sir - " he began, then fell silent as their guide ushered them into the guest quarters. A high-ranking palace servant came forward to greet them.

"I am Salva, your attendant. Chief Lanyo has ordered that you are not to be disturbed, so I have given instructions that the servants come only at your command. The intercom connects you to me - if there is anything you require, summon me. You have but to order. Is there anything I can do now?"

"I think not," the Captain answered. "You may go."

With a respectful bow Salva withdrew, and the Captain began to explore their quarters, tossing idle comments to Kirk as he did so.

"This planet suits me well," he declared at last, throwing himself into a chair and beckoning Kirk to sit at his feet. "If it were not for Starfleet. I could enjoy this life, a warrior as my ancestors were. Do you know that the tribes often fight among themselves? That would be something to see! These Vanlans have a spirit my people have lost. It is curious, though - the telepathic ability is almost latent in them. A natural meld is only possible between a mated couple; for all others, drugs are necessary to enhance the ability."

"I do know that the Vanlans are a strange blend of civilised and barbaric," Kirk commented quietly, knowing that a reply was expected. "These servants - they're little better than slaves."

"As you are, James?" The Captain laughed and slid his hand down Kirk's neck, seeking the fastening of his shirt. "We have several hours before we need change for dinner - how do you propose to entertain me?"

Kirk dropped his eyes, resignedly aware of what his master wanted.

For the first two days Kirk sat in on the talks between the Captain and the chiefs, following the discussion via his translator. He understood and could speak a little Vulcan, but the Vanlan dialect defeated him, although the Captain seemed to have little difficulty. He had told Kirk that it was in fact an archaic form of Vulcan, little used now on the mother planet, but taught as a matter of tradition to members of the ruling families.

On the third day, however, the Captain told him that he was no longer needed. He would be expected to attend the entertainments laid on by the Vanlans, but during the remainder of the talks he was to remain in their quarters. Kirk suspected that the Captain had reasons of his own for not wanting another witness to what was said, but his master's plans were no concern of his.

Used to restrictions, Kirk accepted his confinement without complaint, with the weary, hopeless resignation that filled so much of his life. He explored their quarters thoroughly, listening to the music tapes that had been supplied to them, puzzling over the books he found, but was unable to decipher much of the language. There was a pool in the garden where he could swim, and he set out to make a detained study of the many unfamiliar plants that grew there - anything to fill the long empty days.

The servants appeared briefly each morning to clean the rooms, but they seemed to be afraid of the alien guest, responding to his tentative greetings with monosyllables, so that, seeing their fear, Kirk did not persist. Salva was a little more communicative, and would occasionally tell him something of the history of the planet, but he had little time for conversation.

Loneliness had been Kirk's existence for so long that he scarcely noticed it, but on the ship he had at least had his work and his books to fill in the hours; here, he almost began to look forward to the evenings and the Captain's return as a welcome break in the monotony - and this, he knew, was what his master had intended.

One morning Kirk decided to explore the furthest reaches of the garden, a semi-wild area where he had never ventured before. Shady trees lined the high wall, and thick tangled undergrowth rioted between them; it was difficult to walk, there was nothing much to see, and he soon lost interest in his surroundings. Just as he was turning back towards the pool, intending to cool off with a swim, a weak, tremulous cry caught his attention. He followed the sound, forcing his way through the bushes until he came to a small natural clearing hard up against the boundary wall.

Curled in the shelter of a bush lay a half-grown hunting cat; the creature lifted its head at Kirk's approach and called plaintively. She - for it was a female - was held fast in a tangle of creepers.

"Steady, girl," Kirk murmured, moving slowly with hand outstretched. The cat sniffed at his fingers, reached a tentative tongue to lick the salty sweat in the palm of his hand, and gave a faint purr.

"Poor lady - what have you done to yourself?" Kirk kept his voice low and reassuring as he scratched behind her ears, assessing the cat's position. When he was certain she was calm, he disentangled the creepers, freeing the trapped body.

"Poor girl," he repeated soothingly as he ran his hands over the tawny coat.

She was a beautiful animal, but pitifully thin; one front paw was badly twisted, clearly an old injury.

Kirk's face tightened in anger. The cat must have sustained some crippling injury and had been thrown out as useless by her master, left to forage as best she could. Somehow she had found her way into the garden, and had become entangled in the creepers - he wondered how long she had lain there before he found her.

"You must be hungry!" Kirk exclaimed. "Come on, let's see what we can find for you to eat." He bent and picked her up, half afraid that she would struggle, but the cat relaxed trustingly in his arms.

Back indoors he summoned Salva and ordered food and milk for the cat. She ate hungrily, licked his hand in a grateful caress, and fell asleep on the rug, her contented purring gradually rumbling into silence.

Kirk lightly stroked the pricked ears. "I'll call you Sheba," he decided, remembering the dark, liquid eyes that had gazed at him. "Whatever am I going to do with you, though? And oh lord - what will He say?"

The Captain was contemptuously amused. "A useless cripple, James - how like you. Do you propose to keep the brute here?"

Kirk's hand rested defensively on the velvet-soft head. As though sensing the Human's fear of the newcomer, Sheba lay still, watching warily.

"She won't be any trouble to you," Kirk said. "I'll keep her out of your way - and Salva said it'd be no trouble to get food for her. Please, let me look after her."

"And when you leave?" Spock demanded. "You cannot take a hunting cat aboard a Starship, and none of the warriors would want her. You are merely postponing her death - she will starve with no-one to feed her."

"I thought..." Kirk looked up pleadingly. "I thought perhaps McCoy could do something, fix her leg. She'd be valuable then, wouldn't she, and I could find someone to take care of her? I'm sure he wouldn't mind..."

"He is as soft-hearted as you are," the Vulcan sneered. He paused for a moment, then touched Kirk's face lightly. "Does it mean so much to you, James?"

Kirk hesitated. It had been a mistake to show the Captain he cared, but it would have been even more dangerous to attempt to deceive him. He lowered his eyes, accepting defeat. "I know I can't keep her if you forbid it," he whispered. "It's just - I'm lonely."

Firm fingers lifted his chin, and the mocking eyes gazed into his. "If I ordered you to kill her now you'd do it, wouldn't you?" the Vulcan demanded.

"Yes."

"Very well; you may keep her," the Captain said unexpectedly. He slid his hands to Kirk's hips, drawing the Human close. "You will, of course, wish to express your gratitude?" he suggested. "And to prove to me that your new interest will not interfere with your other... duties?"

Kirk nodded in understanding. Sheba was merely another hold the Captain had over him. Obediently he pressed himself closer to the powerful body, raising his parted lips to the Vulcan's mouth.

As the days passed Sheba's thin frame filled out, and the harsh coat became smooth and glossy. She was devoted to Kirk, following him constantly, resting her chin on his knee when he sat down. The crippled paw made her ungainly in movement, but she showed no sign of pain when she walked on it, although she clearly could not run far or fast. Somehow, the cat seemed to sense that the Vulcan was different; when he appeared she would leave Kirk, and retire to the bed he had made for her, watching the pair through slitted eyes.

Somewhat to Kirk's surprise, the Captain showed a detached interest in the cat. He examined the damaged paw, and told the Human that it appeared to be the result of a badly-set break; he was sure that McCoy could correct the damage. In addition, he advised Kirk on training Sheba - the great hunting cats of Vanla were more intelligent than Terran dogs, willing and eager to please, and both man and cat enjoyed the lessons.

One afternoon Kirk was in the garden taking Sheba through an exercise which involved locating and retrieving a specific object from a selection offered; she had just done so successfully for the first time, and Kirk was kneeling to praise her, when a patter of applause from the terrace made him jump to his feet guiltily.

"I... I'm sorry, sir," he stammered. "I didn't realise..."

"It does not matter." The Captain descended the steps and came towards him. At his approach Sheba crouched submissively and crept away.

"It appears that your decision to save the animal was a wise one, James. If the paw can be healed she will be a valuable addition to any hunting pack. You are to be congratulated."

"Thank you." Kirk coloured at the unexpected and unusual praise from his master.

"In fact," the Vulcan continued, "even if the damage cannot be repaired, it would be a waste to lose such intelligence. If it pleases you, I will suggest to Lanyo that he keep her and breed from her."

"Would you, really?" Kirk smiled at the Vulcan with undisguised pleasure. "It would be wonderful to know that she'll be cared for when we leave. Thank you, sir."

The Vulcan stood motionless, fixing the sight in his memory. Kirk stood, smiling openly and naturally for the first time since their first night together. The fair hair tumbled over his forehead, his eyes glowed with happiness, his lips were upturned in a sweetly-seductive curve...

And all this for a mere cat. The alien eyes narrowed coldly as the Vulcan ruthlessly subdued a treacherous regret that he had not brought that look to the Human's face.

"Come here!" he said harshly. "Lanyo commands our presence at an entertainment tonight. I wish to bathe, then I think there is time for you to... serve me... before we need dress. Come - I hunger for you."

With grim satisfaction he watched the happiness fade from Kirk's face. The Human closed his eyes, swallowed, then lowered his head in submission.

"How may I please you?" he asked quietly.

Lanyo had arranged a visit to the encampment of one of the semi-nomadic tribes. The party flew most of the way by aircar, then landed and switched to horses for the last few miles - "To experience the atmosphere of the place," Lanyo explained.

Although temporary, the camp was elaborate, the tents large and ornate as befitted a wealthy tribe. Here, for the first time, Kirk saw Vanlan freewomen, dark, beautiful women whose dignity equalled that of their menfolk. In this tribe, the Remora, women were trained as rigorously as the men, although in slightly different ways; they did not fight in battle, but were skilled with the knife and the bow, and were expected to defend their camp from attack. As was common on Vanla, some of the Remoran warriors took male mates, but those who took wives were not, as was the case in some other tribes, considered inferior. Tama, the Remoran chief, had married twice, each time to a woman; his son and heir Malor, on the other hand, had chosen a male as his consort. Kirk was interested to learn that, as on Vulcan, the two men each had a secondary wife to bear their children, and from what he could see the women seemed to be respected and happy - of course, he reflected, it might simply be that they knew no other way. The married women were permitted to mix freely with the visitors, but - another echo of Vulcan - the single girls could not meet men not of the tribe unless they had first been welcomed to the tented city of the Remora, which lay some days' journey into the desert; Tama told the Captain that his daughter Tavara had been most anxious to meet the off-worlders, but even for her the custom could not be relaxed.

As he wandered through the camp at the Captain's side, Kirk was fascinated by the simple yet complex life of these nomads. Aircars existed side by side with horses, the finest craftsmanship punctuated mass production of basic items, intelligent, sophisticated people lived by a semi-barbaric code under which slaves were commonplace, and yet a slave could be freed and welcomed into the tribe if he or she displayed signs of superior intelligence, skill at a craft or artistic talent, although it was not regarded as proper for a freeborn woman to work even with crafts except to decorate her home - and the children of slaves were educated to bring to fulfilment whatever aptitude they did possess. Kirk could only shake his head, wondering what the Federation would make of this society - and what the tribesmen would think of the Federation.

A meal had been prepared for them - a traditional banquet cooked and eaten in the open, under the stars. The food was well prepared and served, the wines subtle; in all, a meal such as he might have expected in the most sophisticated surroundings.

As the evening passed it became clear that Kirk's unusual appearance intrigued and attracted the Remorans; women as well as men gazed at him with pleasure, calling laughing invitations and compliments. Kirk took care to keep close to the Captain's side, afraid that an incautious response might arouse the Vulcan's anger, but it seemed that his master was amused rather than annoyed - although he kept a watchful eye on his property.

It was late into the evening when Lanyo turned to the Captain. "A storm is brewing, my friend, and we cannot return to the city tonight. Tama has arranged accomodation for us."

"I am honoured." The Vulcan inclined his head to the tall Remoran.

"It is we who are honoured, guest." Tama led them towards a tent. "The wind will scream tonight, but our tents can withstand its breath - these storms are common in our desert. Sleep well within my camp, my friends."

As Tama had said, it was a wild night. Kirk, securely held in the Captain's arms, found himself pressing closer to the warm body, instinctively seeking protection - the one thing he had learned to count on in his wretched existence was the certainty that the Vulcan would allow nothing else to harm him. He shuddered as the violent blasts of wind shrieked around the tent, visualising how it would be to be unprotected in such a storm; at the movement the powerful arms tightened around him, and the Captain murmured a few words in his own language.

Oddly comforted, although he did not understand their meaning, Kirk slept at last.

Morning dawned clear and fresh in the aftermath of the storm. The seemingly frail tents had indeed survived the fury of the night, but the sand was still blowing in the fast-dying wind. Lanyo ordered the aircars to collect the party at the campsite, and the return flight was smooth and uneventful.

Salva met them as they entered their quarters. The man was clearly nervous, refusing to meet Kirk's eyes as he bowed respectfully.

"Is something wrong?" Kirk asked gently.

"Commander Kirk... I regret... Sheba..." Salva stammered.

Apprehension gripped Kirk as he realised that the cat had not come to greet him as she usually did. "What's wrong? Has something happened?" It was the First Officer of the Enterprise who spoke, not the Captain's uncertain slave.

"The cat sensed the approach of the storm last night, Commander. She was restless - I think she was looking for you. We tried to call her, but she refused to come in from the garden, and she ran when we tried to catch her..."

"Go on," Kirk said quietly when the man faltered.

"It was an accident... a tree uprooted by the wind. We did not find her until this morning. I fear she is badly hurt."

With a faint cry Kirk ran into the room, falling on his knees beside Sheba's bed. The great cat raised her head, her lustrous eyes glazed with pain, but a purr kindled in her throat at the touch of the beloved hand, and she reached a rough tongue to lick his fingers.

"Sheba..." The smooth coat was scarcely marked, but the cat made no attempt to get up, and Kirk's gentle touch on her hindquarters produced a soft whimper of pain.

"Let me see." The Captain joined him, and began to run careful hands over Sheba's body, noting each reaction. At last he looked at Kirk.

"There is nothing to be done. Her spine has been crushed."

"No." Kirk shook his head in frantic denial. "Perhaps McCoy..."

"The injuries are too severe."

"But she can't..." Kirk reached out to touch the beautiful head.

After a moment the Captain's fingers covered his, lingering for a moment before they left and slid down to the base of the skull. Before Kirk could realise what the Vulcan intended he tightened his grip; there was a faint snap, and Sheba's eyes filmed over as her head fell limply onto the Human's knee.

"You've killed her! How could you!" Overwhelmed by grief and anger he could not control, Kirk turned and struck out blindly at the Vulcan. He parried the attack easily, and catching Kirk's wrists hauled him to his feet.

"James, listen to me." The Vulcan held him tightly. "I understand - believe me, I understand. Thus it was with I-Chaya..."

Kirk struggled frantically, refusing to listen. "You took your chance, didn't you? I loved her, so you destroyed her - are you so jealous that you see even a pet as a rival? Let me go! Don't touch me!"

"That is not how it was." The Captain shook him. "I thought only to give a merciful end to her pain."

"Merciful? You?" Kirk choked, too angry to consider how his master would react to his defiance. "You enjoy pain!"

The Vulcan's eyes narrowed. "Only yours, my slave. Forget yourself for a moment, and think of Sheba. Would you have had her linger for hours, days, in pain? She did not deserve that."

Kirk gazed at him through tear-blinded eyes, his head drooping in resignation. "You killed her," he whispered brokenly. "She was mine, and you destroyed her..."

"...I really believed that for a long time," Kirk said tonelessly, shifting in the circle of Spock's arm. "I thought he'd done it because he couldn't bear that I should have something to love, and the belief broke my spirit just a little more. Now, today, I realised... He knew what had to be done, and he did it. I can even understand now why he didn't warn me - he was taking the choice upon himself, sparing me from having to make the decision. Oh, in the end I'd have realised it was necessary and let him do it, but I'd have felt guilty, wondering if perhaps there was something I could have done. As it was, I just... blamed him. He was merciful, in his own way - to Sheba and to me."

"I think perhaps he was," Spock answered quietly.

After a moment, Kirk looked up. "Spock - who was I-Chaya?"

"For me - and perhaps for him - a much-loved pet. When I was seven, just before my Kahs-wan, he fought a le-matya in my defence. He was badly hurt. By the time a healer reached him, all that could be done was to give him an easy death. He was my pet, the decision was mine..."

Kirk said nothing; he pressed silently closer, burying his head against Spock's shoulder, and felt the Vulcan's arm tighten around him.

"Jim, I have loved only a few times in my life, and each time I lost the one I cared for. Don't let me lose you as well. Stay with me." He stopped abruptly, suddenly realising what he was saying. "Forgive me - I have no right..."

"I'm glad you said it," Kirk whispered without raising his head. "It reminds me that I can give you something too, instead of always taking. To be needed - really needed - you don't know how much it means to me. He would never admit to any weakness, but you're not ashamed of showing what you feel; and so in turn I've learned not to be ashamed of feeling lonely, or tired, or afraid. You give me such peace, Spock."

They sat quietly for a few moments, then Kirk pulled back slightly. "You and he had so much in common," he said quietly, "and yet you are so different."

"You must remember that I knew my mother, Jim. She taught me to understand Human emotions, my father taught me to control them. Later, on the Enterprise, I was accepted, I found friends..."

"And all He had was I-Chaya" Kirk murmured. "Spock, I can't hate him any more. Oh, I still hate the things he did - but I'm beginning to understand, emotionally as well as intellectually, why he did them, though I don't understand why he didn't let T'Pau help him. Even Sheba..."

Spock's arm tightened again as he fought the rage that filled him at the thought of Kirk, alone and helpless, shedding tears for an animal that had given him the love he craved. "Jim, why was I not born into this universe? You would have been spared so much sorrow."

"Yes." Kirk touched the Vulcan's face lightly. "But I wonder... You'd have been kind to me, and we'd have been friends - but would I really have appreciated you? I might have taken you for granted. I think, sometimes, that my... my counterpart didn't know how lucky he was."

"He did not have the same need of me," Spock admitted. "Although we were close, I did not know with him the fulfilment that you give me."

Kirk smiled, his sleepy eyes fixed on Spock's face. "Do you know the best of it?" he murmured. "It's knowing that you love me - and that I can love you, my brother."

Spock rested his cheek on Kirk's hair for a moment, then drew back. "You are tired, Jim. Can you sleep now?"

"Mmmm. I'd better get some rest; we leave tomorrow for the Valley." Kirk chuckled. "I can't let Salish down - a half-asleep god wouldn't make a very good impression."

"Remember that I will be monitoring you all the time, Jim. You will be perfectly safe."

"0h, I don't think they'll harm me - it's just that I've got to be convincing. You know Starfleet is determined to have that base - if I fail, who knows what they'll do to convince the villagers to move."

"Contact me tomorrow night, and report fully." Spock began to disentangle himself. "Goodnight, Jim."

Kirk's eyes flew open at the movement, and he caught Spock's arm. "Don't go," he whispered, looking down in confusion. "I... I don't want to be alone."

Spock smoothed the bright hair, then lifted Kirk's chin; the wide eyes met his, candid and affectionate as a child's, but with shadows in their expressive depths.

"Dreams?" the Vulcan murmured.

"Not often, and usually I can control them, thanks to you. But tonight, I feel... lost."

"Then I will stay." Spock settled down, leaving his arm around Kirk as he pulled a blanket over them both. The Human's head felt pleasantly heavy on his shoulder, and his trust, as always, warmed the Vulcan - he knew that Kirk could not have borne this contact from any other. "Goodnight, Jim."

Kirk snuggled closer, draping his arm across Spock's chest. "Sleep well," he whispered.

When he woke in the morning Kirk was alone, but the imprint of Spock's body was still there, and the warmth of his touch still lingered. He started suddenly as he realised that Nahtanha was sitting beside the bed waiting for him to wake up, She was staring at that betraying imprint, and his mind raced frantically - the lodge was guarded, and she would be aware that no-one had entered during the night. Then he relaxed as he remembered his supposed divine origins - it would be another tale to add to the growing legend of Kirok, that his Companion had visited him in the night, and departed without trace.

He smiled at the girl. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Kirok," Nahtanha echoed. "Food is waiting, and your festival clothes are ready. Salish waits to attend you."

"Greet him for me, and ask him to wait a little longer. I will call when I am ready."

When the girl had gone Kirk rose and washed hastily in the water she had brought, then dressed in the rich costume the women of the tribe had prepared as a gift for Kirok on the day of his return. Going to the door he called Salish and gestured him to a seat, pouring two cups of coffee - he had introduced the drink on his last visit, showing the people how to prepare the berries, and it had quickly proved popular; it seemed that the Preservers, as well as taking a spread of cultures to the stars, had also taken certain animals and plants on which these cultures showed a possible dependence.

"May I ask a question, Kirok?" Salish asked hesitantly.

"Of course."

"Why do the gods wish the Valley land? If there was a reason the tribe could understand, that I could explain in Council..."

"I can only tell you, Salish, that the gods have their own reasons, and they have chosen this place. The Valley tribe must decide if they will submit. I hope that they will."

"If not..." Salish hesitated again, then continued at Kirk's nod of encouragement. "Will the gods drive the people from the Valley if they refuse?"

"I fear that they may. I hope to convince the people to go peacefully, but the gods will not be refused, and as you know, some of my brothers are impatient with the weakness of mortals. You must persuade them to listen to me, Salish - you who know the price of resisting the gods."

"They will listen, Kirok, but it will be a hard thing for them to leave their homes. They are wary of you - it is not that they doubt what we have told them of your powers, but they may ask to see proof for themselves."

"Then I'll have to show them, won't I?" Kirk said calmly. "I'm ready, Salish - let's go."

Whatever their private reservations, the people of the Valley Tribe were evidently taking not the slightest risk of offending someone who might be a god. Kirk was welcomed with the dignified simplicity characteristic of this world, and was treated with the innate courtesy offered to a distinguished guest. The Strangers' Lodge had been prepared for them, but Salish asked for quarters elsewhere, since it was not fitting that he should intrude upon the god.

Despite their politeness, however, it quickly became clear that some of the younger men were suspicious.

"Why is it," their spokesman Songan demanded, "that so mighty a god comes among us alone and unattended?"

"Salish attends me," Kirk corrected gently, "and why should I need a guard among friends? The People of the Valley have invited me into their village - do you say, then, Songan, that a guest here may not trust his hosts?"

"Well countered, Kirok," Chief Shaponda applauded. "A gentle answer to an impertinent question."

"The young are impatient, Shaponda," Kirk replied. "Wisdom comes with years."

"The young? But you are..." The old man's voice tailed off and he nodded. "The appearance of the gods is deceptive, is it not? To us you seem a youthful warrior, but who knows what form you wear in the Star Lodge. I will remember that. What do you want of us, Kirok?"

"I wish to speak to the Council of the Tribe."

"They will gather at sundown. Until then our village is your home. Walk among us freely."

The invitation gave Kirk the opportunity he wanted to explore the valley at first hand. His tricorder readings confirmed the opinion he had already formed from the ship's sensors - the underground complex underlay most of the valley, and the whole area would be needed for the base.

In a way it was quite neat, he mused as he looked around. If he claimed the Valley in the name of the gods, the whole area would automatically become taboo, and the mountains would form an effective boundary - the pass by which he and Salish had entered could easily be guarded, and Security could take care of anyone rash enough to attempt to enter the forbidden area by crossing the mountains.

The main difficulty lay in persuading the tribe to leave its home. Kirk suspected that he would need a convincing display of his divine powers - it would be unreasonable to expect the tribe simply to accept his word, even backed by Salish's account of what had happened to his tribe. As he rode through the valley on one of the native ponies Kirk was thinking how best to mount a demonstration that would be convincing but harmless.

His thoughts could not entirely distract him from the autumnal beauty of the valley. The harvest was over, and the stubble in the fields shone golden in the sunlight, alive with the birds that searched out fallen grain. Smoke rose lazily into the still air from the cooking fires of the village, and small fishing boats drifted slowly across the mirror-smooth lake.

As he watched Kirk's eyes narrowed in concentration. At the far end of the lake steep forbidding cliffs soared high into the air. Directly opposite the village a massive overhang bulged grotesquely from the vertical surface, a curiously menacing natural formation.

Indeed, a possibility. Kirk raised his communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise - beam me up, Mr. Kyle."

The sun was setting and the village Elders were gathering for the Council when Kirk rode back into the village. He smiled his thanks to the youth who took the reins of his pony, and joined Salish, who had been watching for him anxiously.

The Elders were seated in a wide circle, with Shaponda in the place of honour. Kirk saw with interest that Songan represented the young warriors, and that two women were also included in the Council.

Shaponda beckoned him to the centre of the circle. "The People of the Valley hear your words, Kirok," the Chief said gravely.

"My friends, the gods send me to you because of their love and care for their children. A gift freely given is more highly valued than that which is taken by force."

"What do the... the gods demand of us?" Songan asked.

"Your valley." Ignoring the gasps of astonishment, Kirk continued, "The gods love this world, and wish to dwell here; but they cannot live long among mortals. We take your form to walk among you for a brief space, but we dwell in the light, and you could not long endure our unshielded presence. Here, in this valley which is separated from the rest of the world by the natural barrier of the mountains, we may walk freely with no harm to our children."

"This I must ask." Shaponda glanced at Kirk nervously. "If we do not agree to leave our homes, what will the gods do?"

"They will take the valley, and cast you out," Kirk said seriously. "I beg you, believe that - and there is nothing that I, Kirok the Builder, can do to save you. The power of the gods is great - you cannot defy it."

"People of the Valley, I ask to be heard," Salish called from outside the circle, where he waited in his capacity as Kirok's attendant.

"We will hear you, Salish," Shaponda replied.

"Because of the friendship between our tribes, I beg you to heed Kirok. We did not, when last he walked among us - in our pride and foolishness we dared to harm him. Even I doubted him, heeding the words of Goro, and would have slain him as a false god. Even as we struck him was the Destroyer unleashed upon us, and his vengeance was terrible. Do not, I beg you, bring down his anger upon yourselves. Give the gods freely what is asked. This land is fair, and has room for all - I pledge that my tribe will aid you until you have settled on a new home."

"Remember," Kirk added softly, "that the gods wish to deal kindly with you, but they will not forgive defiance. They have sent me to speak with you, but they will not ask a second time."

"You have spoken, Kirok, and we have listened," Shaponda said slowly. "Will you permit the Elders to consider your words?"

"Of course." Kirk stepped out of the circle, beckoning Salish to his side. "I will walk through the village - summon me when you have reached a decision."

Deeply concerned, Salish maintained a respectful distance as he followed Kirk's aimless wandering through the village. The god was troubled, that much was evident. It might have been better, Salish thought, if Kirok had come in his shimmering glory to the Valley people, but he had chosen again to wear the guise of mortal flesh. Well, the ways of the gods were not to be questioned, as he had learned so painfully...

Kirk was indeed troubled. Starfleet wanted this base, needed it - and would not be diverted by the wishes of a few hundred people. Oh, they would take over peacefully if they could, but it was not impossible that if the tribe resisted there would be bloodshed, perhaps even death - a legacy of fear for the tranquil world he had come to love.

His greatest hope lay with Shaponda. The old Chief believed in him, he was certain, but could he persuade the Elders, especially the suspicious Songan?

"Kirok, the Elders have decided," Salish said quietly, interrupting his thoughts.

Kirk looked round to see that one of the Valley people, obviously not daring to approach the god directly, was waiting nearby. One of the younger men, he noted; that looked promising.

He smiled at Salish. "Let's go."

Shaponda was waiting for him in the centre of the circle. "Kirok, I speak for my people, not as my heart would have me do," the old man said nervously.

Kirk's expression remained calm, but his hopes sank. "How have you decided?"

"It is... My people fear to anger the gods, and yet they are sad that they must leave their homes. Some have doubts - this I admit freely - and they would ask..." His voice faltered as his courage failed, and Kirk smiled in reassurance.

"I am not angry. What would they have me do?"

"Kirok, they ask for proof that you are a messenger from the gods. Will you not demonstrate your power to us? They say that if they are to leave their homes, they must know that it is for the gods - that it is not just a... a trick by another tribe living beyond our knowledge who want our land."

"I see." Kirk looked around, his face stern. "Very well, Shaponda, but such proof is not bought cheaply. You ask me to demonstrate my powers, but you are ignorant of what you ask. Are you not aware that with one word I can lay waste this land so that not even the grass will grow for ten generations? The Tribe of the Obelisk knows... However, you are but children, and so I will give you a proof that you can believe, but that will cause no harm to any of you. Hear the command of Kirok. Tomorrow you must gather your belongings, everything you value, and carry it to the high ground above the lake. No-one must remain in the village - all animals, food stores, and supplies must be transported. There you will remain during the hours of darkness; at sunrise the next day I will give you the proof that you demand."

"But..."

"Heed my warning!" Kirk said sharply. "Any who doubt and remain behind will surely perish."

"And if you fail to provide this proof you speak of?" Songan sneered.

Kirk turned to face him. "I will be among you," he pointed out. "Either I am a god or I am not. If I am, you will know it - if I am not, you will be able to take the vengeance you seem to think you need. Will you gamble your life on that, Songan? Would it not be wiser to assume that I am what I claim to be until it is proved otherwise?"

"You speak truly," Songan nodded grudgingly. "Very well, Kirok - we will wait."

"I will rest now. In the morning I will select a campsite for you. Bid the people begin to pack - and remember, nothing you value must be left behind."

He studied the Elders for a moment, then made his way from the circle towards the Strangers' Lodge. He had not really expected that the tribe would agree to