16

Sweat poured down Kirk's face and he again wondered if he would come out of this alive. Already he had lost one of his best guards from a horrid fall. His legs ached, arms ached, head ached, and in fact he thought there wasn't one part of his body that didn't hurt. His only possible salvation lay in the cave he spotted from the ground. The cave that was no longer visible from his climbing position on the mountain's side. Looking over his shoulder, Kirk instantly regretted the movement as a wave of dizziness loosened his tenuous hold on the rock face.

Spock sighed inaudibly and gazed down at his fuming, furious captain, tempted to place a restraining hand on the tensed shoulder. He curbed the untimely impulse and shifted his stance slightly closer instead. Kirk was reacting predictably–angrily, to the last-minute cancellation of shore leave – just as Commodore Welsey had calculated he would. Apparently, Spock's many admonitions to be more patient, and more politic, were doomed to failure. So be it. There was no use in pointing out the possible advantages to be gained in the new orders. Not yet.

He'll come.
The thought refused to die, even though it had been four days. Four days of darkness, with nothing to eat or drink, trapped in this pit of filth and dankness. Someone was going to pay for this, pay dearly, when he got out of here. If he got out of here.
He'll come.
Kirk grimaced. A simple beam down to collect the Imperial tribute gone bad. Who would have thought the Kanusians could muster enough courage to attack a representative of the Empire? They were a gutless lot, surrendering to the Empire without a struggle, falling all over themselves to appease their new wardens. No one suspected a thing from this pathetic bunch.