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He did briefly test the strength of the bindings, more out of curiosity and instinct than any real expression of protest. This, he thought, was how they used to bind prisoners on Earth hundreds of years ago, before executing them by injecting them with lethal doses of chemicals, and they too rarely fought against the inevitable. The difference was that David, at least, held on to the hope that he might survive with his faculties intact.

Maltz approached the table holding a thin tricorder with a large display. He punched the buttons and adjusted the dials with a certain disturbing eagerness, then attached a few wires and cables to it before handing the entire contraption to Kruge, who came up behind him, looking on with mild interest. To the other ends of the wires he attached a large metallic halo, which he fitted over David’s temples. One additional wire fed into a crude control panel of sorts mounted upon a nearby pedestal.

David remembered hearing stories about the Klingons and their ability to wipe the memories of their adversaries. He had no idea what a “mind-sifter” looked like, or if the device they were currently employing was in any way typical. He could only hope that Maltz knew what he was doing, and that he would show some level of restraint before permanently emptying his mind.

“My lord,” Maltz said, “you will see the bipolar montage on the readout, filtered into alpha and beta waveforms. Once we scan to a depth where visual data can be resolved, it will appear on the screen.”

“Yes, yes, just get to it!” Kruge spat impatiently.

“Of course, sir.” He flipped a switch on the control panel, and in that instant, David lost control of his mind.

That is not to say that he had lost his sanity; but rather, all of the conscious functions of his brain-things that he had spent a lifetime assuming were in his own complete control-were suddenly at the whim of a mechanical device. Images from his past were forcibly and chaotically dredged out of his deepest memories and played out before him. Unlike the mind-meld he had experienced earlier with Saavik, this was not a warm, shared experience. This was rape.

David focused his concentration despite the unpleasantness, making use of his own limited mental discipline, aided by the energy he had wisely conserved by not resisting until now. He had to bring order to the turmoil cascading through his memories. Knowing exactly what they were looking for, he simply had to provide a frame of reference, and to lead them precisely where they wanted to go.

Like pieces of a puzzle, the random flurry of memories and bits of knowledge began settling into an orderly mosaic…. He had returned to the library. The same images of antique books, representing all of his codified memories, still lined the shelves. The fire still burned in the fireplace, the pictures still hung upon the walls, and the rug still concealed the secret vault of his deep subconscious.

No sooner did the placid image appear than it was disturbed by a fierce commotion. The walls of the room shook and the sounds of repeated battering against the entrance reverberated through the hardwood floor until the door violently crashed inward. Dark figures swarmed in between the jagged edges of the ruined framework and descended like vultures upon the neatly arranged stacks surrounding the room. Though humanoid in shape, they had no obvious features, existing more as vague shadows. Individually but with breathtaking swiftness they rifled through the books, checking each title before unceremoniously throwing them aside.

Additional figures shuffled throughout the room, opening drawers on endtables, knocking items off shelves, and even peering intently into the burning logs in the fire. In a short time, the room was completely ransacked-the shelves emptied and the contents of David’s mind haphazardly scattered in random piles all over the floor. On some barely conscious level, David was aware of the jumbled mess the mind-sifter had made of his memories. But at least they were still intact.