The Promise  By Elizabeth K. Frim His boots crunched loudly on the rocky ground. He was tired: near exhaustion and dazed from the sun’s heat. But it didn’t matter. He had to find them–Had to–It was the last chance he had. He gazed at the rocky slope before him that rose at a steep angle up to the plateau and came very near to admitting defeat. Leaning against the rock wall, he rested his head on his arm. Several minutes elapsed before he again gazed up at the incline. It had to be the right one. But what if it wasn’t.... His legs felt like lead. Fear set in. He wouldn’t make it. It would have been easier to turn back, but could he? And if Sulu died, could he live with the knowledge that he might have saved him? A soft “NO” escaped his parched lips as he stumbled forward slowly and began to climb. It seemed as if time had suddenly stood still. The top of the rise seemed no closer. His strength was failing. “How much more, how much more?” The words echoed in his mind, becoming a chant. His knees gave way and he sank down beside a boulder, head pillowed in his arms. The scene flashed before his eyes for the hundredth time.... “Look out!” Chekov yelled as the rock crumbled under Sulu’s feet. He dove toward his friend only to land short and see him vanish over the edge. Sulu lay still on a ledge no more than four feet wide, half way down the cliff’s side. There was no way of getting to him without starting an avalanche of rock. God knows he’d tried. All he could do was wait and hope. It was several hours before Sulu regained consciousness and moaned softly. Chekov gazed down over the edge. “There’s no way I can get to you. Gotta go for help. Do you understand?” Sulu managed a weak wave of his hand, then lay still again. Chekov pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll be back...just hang on...hang on...” Those words kept echoing in his mind: a promise he had to and meant to keep. Struggling to his feet, he began again. Each step upward was agonizing and suddenly he was there, scrambling with some last ounce of strength over the top. The village lay stretched out before him. He stumbled across the last hundred yards in a daze. Everything blurred into one and turned into blackness as he sank to the hot sands.      *                                 *                                *                             A familiar face appeared before his blurred vision that materialized into the Doctor. McCoy gazed down at him with a concerned expression. Chekov tried to talk but the words were only a whisper. “Sulu...needs...help...he’s...” The sentence was left unfinished as a fit of coughing overcame him. When it subsided he felt weaker than ever. But Sulu--his friend--he had to try to tell them. He began again, only to have McCoy silence him with a shake of his head. The Doctor’s voice penetrated the mist of pain. “You were delirious last night an did a lot of talking. Sulu’s safe. They brought him in this morning. Now get some rest.” The hypo hissed against his arm and the pain began to dull. Chekov managed a whispered “Thanks” before drifting into a peaceful sleep.