Star Trek The Original Series From History's Shadow (24 page)

“Thank you, Captain.” Before Ocherab could say anything else, the briefing room doors opened again, this time to allow Ensign Hawthorne and her own charge, Gejalik. The security guard directed the Certoss agent to a chair at the table opposite Kirk’s, but instead of taking her seat Gejalik stood behind it, her attention transfixed by Ocherab.

“Gejalik,” said the elder Certoss, rising from her chair and clasping her hands before her in what Kirk assumed was a gesture of welcome, “I am Minister Ocherab, of the Unified Envoy Vessel
Balatir,
and I bring you greetings from all the people of our world.”

Mimicking the gesture, Gejalik offered a formal nod to the minister. “Thank you.” To Kirk, she seemed nervous, as reflected in the way her gaze moved from Ocherab to Kirk and Spock and even Lincoln.

“Is there something wrong, Gejalik?” Ocherab asked, no doubt having perceived her unease.

Her eyes lowering to fix on the conference table, the Certoss replied, “I apologize, Minister. Given the amount of time I spent on Earth, and after learning what has happened, I was unsure how I would feel upon meeting someone from my homeworld. Perhaps this sounds odd, but in some ways I feel as though I now am alien even to my own people.”

Would Edith Keeler have felt the same way, three centuries in the future from the world she had known? It was a question Kirk had asked himself countless times in the year that had passed since he, Spock, and McCoy had returned through the Guardian of Forever from Earth. Would it have made a difference to whisk her away from her fate, removing her from danger at the moment of her death so that she might live out her days seeing the universe she had dared to dream might exist one day in the distant future?

Stop it
.

“It sounds like a perfectly natural reaction to me,” Ocherab said, moving from her chair and walking around the table to Gejalik. “I am still in the process of accepting what Captain Kirk and his people have told me. They say that you are able to provide a unique perspective on our shared, if very disparate, history.” The minister took Gejalik’s hands in her own, and the Certoss exchanged a long look without saying anything. After a moment, Gejalik turned to Kirk. “How does one react to the knowledge that their entire existence may as well be an illusion? Which of the realities that we represent is the correct one?”

“This one,” Lincoln said, her voice firm. “All available information tells us that the Certoss always have been a people of peace. Your past was altered by another civilization so
that you could be their ally at a future point in history.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t know which of the factions fighting the war was responsible. Perhaps it’s for the best that we don’t know.”

“And you’re able to corroborate what Miss Lincoln has told me?” the minister asked Gejalik, who nodded.

“Yes,” the Certoss agent replied. “Where I come from, our people, at one time, were at war with the Tandarans; however, by the time I came of age, the conflict between our two planets had ended.” Once more she paused before directing her gaze to Kirk. “We destroyed the Tandaran homeworld by subjecting it to an unrelenting orbital bombardment that ultimately led to the entire planet becoming incapable of sustaining life. A fraction of the population was able to evacuate, but the vast majority of the Tandaran people perished at our hands. At the time I left, Tandaran Prime was still projected to remain uninhabitable for centuries.”

Kirk asked, “When would this have taken place?”

“Approximately eighty of your years prior to my departure from Certoss Ajahlan to twentieth-century Earth,” Gejalik replied.

Lincoln added, “About ninety years from now. In a different timeline, of course.”

“Though Colonel Abrenn’s concerns are somewhat extreme,” Spock said, “they at least are understandable. The Tandarans obviously believe that some sequence of events might be enabled that could, in theory, restore the timeline where they and the Certoss once again are enemies and a threat to Tandaran Prime.”

Kirk reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, feeling the onset of another headache. He was thankful for heeding Spock’s advice to leave Mestral out of this meeting, which already had
broached several topics of future history far ahead of the era he called home. “Just listening to all of that is exhausting”

Lincoln, with a hint of amusement in her eyes, replied, “How do you think I feel? This isn’t exactly just another day at the office for me, either, and
that’s
saying something.”

“What am I to report to my leadership?” Ocherab asked after a moment, and Kirk could see that she was wrestling with her own feelings as well as the staggering revelations she had endured. “How does one tell her entire species that everything we know—everything we represent and have accomplished—might well be the result of someone else’s machinations, or their whims? Are we nothing more than playthings for another’s amusement?” For the first time, the minister seemed overwhelmed by what she had been told, and she took a seat at the conference table. Gejalik sat next to her, continuing to hold Ocherab’s hand.

“Minister,” she said, “believe me when I tell you I understand what you must be feeling. After all, I was trained and sent to inflict the same sort of tampering on another world and its people.” She looked to Kirk, Spock, and Lincoln. “I do not ask forgiveness for that. I was a soldier, carrying out my duty during a time of conflict. It is obvious that our efforts to disrupt your society’s development were a failure, and the evidence before me suggests that this was a good thing, particularly if what Miss Lincoln has said is true, and our people only were acting in response to influences leveled upon us.” Returning her gaze to Ocherab, she added, “And you say our world is one of peace and prosperity? How could I not want that for our people? If the worst thing to come from all of this is that I am displaced from a reality in which war was a way of life, then it seems but a small price to pay. Perhaps it is best that no one else ever knows that truth.”

Ocherab once more gripped Gejalik’s hands in both of hers. “It seems as though fate has seen fit to give you an opportunity for a new life, in a world you may not recognize but which still is your own.”

“Thank you, Minister,” Gejalik said, and Kirk was certain he detected the Certoss equivalent of an expression of gratitude and even relief gracing her features.

“I don’t think it’s your own people you have to worry about,” he said. “The Tandarans, on the other hand, are going to be harder to convince. They’re obviously worried not just about you, but what you represent. The knowledge you possess about future history, particularly theirs, is something they want. They’re terrified that you might just be the first of an invading army from a future that, so far as we know, can’t exist in this timeline.”

“Let’s say for the sake of argument that the Tandarans know, suspect, or are in a position where they might find out what eventually happens to them in the other timeline,” Lincoln said. “You, Gejalik, are everything they fought against in a war remembered by no one on your planet or theirs. They want that reality to stay buried, and there may be no limit to how far they’re willing to go to make sure that happens.”

If it was Lincoln’s intention to frighten Gejalik, the Certoss agent’s body language and expression told Kirk that her efforts were succeeding. After a moment, she seemed to collect herself, the soldier and her training once more coming to the fore. “I suppose I should be able to understand and even appreciate that,” she said, her voice taking on a harder tone. “The world I left
destroyed
the Tandarans. We did it because they were working to do the same thing to us. It was
war,
and we were fighting for our very survival. We eliminated a threat.”

She looked to Kirk. “Just as I was fighting your people, who also were a threat, or would be a threat, or however you want to describe it. I was willing to annihilate your entire civilization at a point centuries before they ever could do anything to harm us, in effect waging battle against people who would be dead long before our two planets ever became aware of each other. I have no justification for feeling anything toward the Tandarans except understanding. If surrendering me to them is what’s required for the Certoss people to continue to enjoy the peace they have known for uncounted generations, then I willingly offer myself to that cause.”

“A noble gesture, Gejalik,” Spock said, “though one I fear may be insufficient. It is reasonable to assume that Colonel Abrenn will suspect we now possess knowledge of the other timeline and the very different reality experienced both by the Certoss and the Tandarans, to say nothing of our own history with respect to the Temporal Cold War.”

Kirk had been considering that very possibility. Would Abrenn risk war with the Federation by attacking the
Enterprise,
believing such radical action was justified in order to protect his people? Kirk had to ask himself how he might react, given similar circumstances.

“
Bridge to Captain Kirk,
” said the voice of Lieutenant Sulu piped through the ship’s intercom.

Reaching for the comm switch set into the table before him, Kirk activated the connection. “Go ahead, Mister Sulu.”

“
Sir, you asked to be notified when the Tandaran vessel was ten minutes from intercept. They’re maintaining course and speed, and their weapons and shields are still active. They’ve commenced a full sensor sweep of us, including the Certoss vessel
.”

“Have they tried hailing us?” Kirk asked, already knowing the answer.

“
Negative, sir. They’ve not initiated any communication, and they’re not responding to our hails, though Lieutenant Uhura confirms they’re receiving
.”

Kirk grunted in irritation. “Maintain alert status. I’m on my way up now.” He severed the link and rose from his chair, gesturing for his first officer to follow him. “Mister Spock, it’s time to go and greet our new guests. Let’s hope they’re a bit more cordial than they’ve been up to this point.”

“I find that unlikely, Captain,” the Vulcan replied as he moved to follow Kirk from the briefing room.

Sighing, Kirk shook his head. “Yeah, me too.”

TWENTY

Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Dayton, Ohio

September 26, 1963

Crouching in the shadows afforded by the trees lining the access road, Adlar and Gejalik watched the Air Force sentry walking his post around the warehouse across the narrow street. Warehouse 13B was a two-story metal structure, one of half a dozen located in this area of the base at the far edge of the flight line. A careful inspection of the adjacent buildings showed no signs of exterior activity, though lights were on in several windows, testifying to the work being carried out even at this late hour, but only this warehouse seemed to have its own security detail. The guard was one of two on duty, each walking in opposite directions as they circled the building, and they nodded to each other as they passed, continuing on with their prescribed patrol routes. Having observed the sentries make this same circuit four previous times, Adlar now had a sense of how long the guards took to walk their routes. Both men wore helmets and carried what Adlar recognized as M2 carbine rifles slung over their shoulders, and he also noted the holstered pistols on their hips.

“Just the two,” Gejalik said, keeping her voice low. In her hand she carried a small scanner, the illumination of its display muted so as to avoid detection by the guards or another random passerby. “However, there are several life-forms
inside the structure. Most of them do not appear to be in proximity to the probe. I suspect that it is currently under guard. We’ll have to be careful.”

Notification of the probe’s recovery had come in the form of a cryptic message delivered via phone from Jaecz, ostensibly from the undisclosed location where he was working in the northeastern United States. Following his encounter with the Vulcan, Jaecz had increased his own shroud of security, moving at frequent intervals and maintaining a low profile in the hopes of thwarting any attempts the Vulcan might make to trace his movements. The message Jaecz had sent was short and lacking in detail, but still enough to bring Adlar and Gejalik to Wright-Patterson, where the Air Force had brought the unmanned survey probe they had recovered from a crash site in rural Ohio. At this point nothing about the device was known except that its construction suggested a Vulcan origin. Had the probe been sent to search for Mestral, the wayward scientist who had elected to remain on Earth rather than being rescued the previous year? Adlar doubted that. According to Jaecz, Mestral was believed dead, so the probe likely was part of an ongoing program of covert surveillance intended to monitor humanity’s continued societal and technological advancement.

Manned or automated, the device might still prove useful, in that it almost certainly contained components and other materials that could be utilized in helping them make contact with someone—anyone—on Certoss Ajahlan. Though the likelihood of receiving any sort of message or assistance across time to the future from whence they had been dispatched seemed to fade with every passing year, neither Adlar nor Gejalik had surrendered all hope on that front. As always and until ordered otherwise, both they and Jaecz had
pledged to continue exhausting all efforts at making contact as well as continuing their mission here.

Still,
Adlar mused,
it would be nice to receive some sign that we’ve not been forgotten, or discarded.

“If they follow their established protocols,” Gejalik said, her attention divided between the warehouse and her scanner, “the device will be moved to the area they’re preparing at their permanent facility inside Hangar 18.”

Once that happened, Adlar knew that his and Gejalik’s ability to access the probe would be hampered if not made outright impossible. The American military groups charged with safeguarding items of this sort had become quite adept at carrying out such tasks. Monitoring their movements and activities consumed a great deal of time and resources, despite the obvious technological advantages they possessed. The humans’ approach to security—maintaining information within a small, compartmentalized sphere of control—thwarted most efforts at scrutiny.