Yesterday Son (4 page)

T’Pau considered for a long moment, eyes hooded. “Yes. Thee must try. This child will be thy heir if thee dies without further issue. And thee has not entered kunat kalifee with another. We must protect the succession.”

Spock realized he had been holding his breath, and let it out slowly. The worst was over.

“I’ve prepared a report stating all the information you will need to contact the Council, T’Pau. It gives the specifics of the case, and the code signs to identify the time portal. It “names the search-party members, and the possible number of persons transported from the past. If your request is denied, send a sub-space message to Captain Kirk on the
Enterprise
.”

She took the document and looked at him. “I will contact the Council immediately. Do thou be careful. What will thee do when thee finds them?”

Spock paused, at a loss. He hadn’t thought beyond the bare fact of the child’s existence, and his duty. “I’ll bring them back to the present, and ...” he hesitated again.

Her glance was sharp. “I take it that means thee hast not thought that far ahead? Remember, Spock. This son of yours is a person. Each being has its own dignity and life. Allow thy son this dignity. He is thy issue—but not thee. Remember our symbol,” she touched the IDIC medal hanging on her shrunken
[29]
chest. “Treasure the differences, as well as the similarities.”

Spock didn’t understand her words, except intellectually. He nodded absently, preoccupied with the logistics of getting himself out of
the
house and to the spaceport without being recognized. At T’Pau’s signal, he rose, saluted her. “I thank you, T’Pau. Have I your leave?”

She nodded, looking suddenly weary. “Thee hast leave to go, Spock. I will have Sandar take thee to the spaceport. I will not inform thy parents of thy visit, but remember this: if thee is successful, they will know, and so will all our people.
Thee
must accept what thou has done; for thy good, and for the good of thy child. Live long and prosper, Spock.” She returned his salute, and beckoned to Sandar, her aide, who had appeared as if by magic.

Spock bowed slightly. “Peace and long life, T’Pau.” In silence, he left the chamber.

Kirk sat in the section of the rec deck that had temporarily been converted into a theater, watching
H.M.S. Pinafore,
but his attention wasn’t on the stage. Tonight his ship had docked at Star Base 11, and Spock was overdue. Tomorrow morning at 0900, the Star Fleet technicians would swarm aboard for her two-week inspection and repair detail. If Spock and he didn’t get started within twenty-four hours, they couldn’t make it halfway across the sector to the Guardian and back within the allotted time, and the scheduled date to report for duty might find the
Enterprise
without her First Officer and her Captain.

Of course, it was entirely possible that she would be without them even if they left this minute. During Spock’
s
absence, Kirk had studied the cave paintings and all the available data on Sarpeidon’s ice age. It seemed likely that if somehow the climate missed killing you, the wildlife would cheerfully oblige. The chances of
anyone
surviving in that environment seemed remote—especially a child.

Kirk had considered trying to talk Spock out of this crazy venture, but abandoned the idea when he recalled the look in the Vulcan’s eyes. And he couldn’t let him go alone.

The audience around him was standing and applauding enthusiastically. The Captain hastily joined them and watched Scotty dash backstage and drag a reluctant Uhura out to take a bow. The crew roared when the Chief Engineer gave the Chief Communications Officer a resounding kiss. As Kirk stood
[31]
among his cheering crew, he saw the person he’d been waiting for enter the rec deck through one of the side entrances and stand searching the faces.

Spock stood braced against the bulkhead as Kirk joined him, as though his body might fall without the support. The normally impeccably-groomed fringe of dark bangs was rumpled, and the face beneath looked more exhausted than the last time Kirk had seen the Vulcan.

“You look terrible! What the hell have you been—” Kirk began, then interrupted himself. “We’ve
got
to hurry, or we’ll miss that supply shuttle. I’ve got our gear in my quarters. All set on your end?”

In Kirk’s quarters, both officers changed into durable scouting coveralls, and packed their camping and cold-weather gear into kits. “I raided sickbay when McCoy was out last week, and got a medical kit together.” Kirk said. “Should we bring phasers? Mine didn’t work last time we were on Sarpeidon.”

“I investigated that, and found that the atavachron—their time portal—was set to automatically negate the effectiveness of any weapon that passed through it. A precautionary measure to prevent someone from the future from ruling a past society. Our phasers will work this time.”

“Good. I’d hate to depend on rocks and fists against some of the life-forms I read about. You ready?”

“Ready, Captain.”

The two officers headed for the turbo-lift, carrying their kits. Kirk glanced at the Vulcan. “What kept you? I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it back.”

“I was forced to return aboard a robot freighter. There were no faster ships available.”

Kirk looked sympathetic. “No wonder you look bad. Tried that myself once, when I was in the Academy. Went to visit a ... friend. By the time I arrived, she wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Not that I blame her. Well, at least our transport to
[32]
the Guardian won’t be that bad. We’re traveling aboard the supply ship. You can clean up when we board her. Until then, I’ll try and look as if I’m not with you.” They reached the turbo-lift. “Transporter,” the Captain said, and the doors snapped shut.

And promptly whooshed back open again. A red light began flashing on the lift’s instrument panel.

“Who the hell pushed the override?” Kirk thumbed buttons. Reluctantly, the doors began closing. From the corridor they heard a staccato pound of running footsteps, then a booted leg was thrust through the panels, which snapped open again. McCoy, dressed in scouting coveralls and toting a kit, dived in.

“Whew,” he slumped against the wall as the turbo-lift started off, “I thought I was going to miss you two!”

The Captain stared, then as the meaning of the Doctor’s clothing and equipment dawned, his eyes hardened. “No, you don’t, Bones—” he began.

Spock was saying, “Doctor McCoy, your presence is highly—”

“Shut up, both of you!” McCoy snapped. Spock’s eyebrow continued its climb as the Medical Officer growled, “Stow the arguments. You didn’t really think I was going to let you go tearing off on the crazy quest without me, did you? Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “After all, I’ve had more experience at being frostbitten than either of you. And beautiful, balmy Sarpeidon is just the right place to spend my leave.” He grinned, then sobered. “Besides, what if one of you gets hurt—or you need medical help for the kid?”

Kirk stared. “How do you know about that?”

McCoy jerked his head at Spock. “I was with him, remember? And I saw the paintings. You don’t have to be a Vulcan to add up one plus one equals three. Give me a little credit, Jim.”

“Bones.” Kirk’s tone was ominous. “You’re getting off this lift, and back to sickbay. That’s an order.”

[33]
“You forget, Captain. I’m on leave, just like you two. You can’t tell me where to spend it. Besides, I’ve got an ace in the hole. I’ve been going over the medical information from Sarpeidon’s Library for the last couple of weeks, and I’ve figured out a way to medically reverse Zarabeth’s conditioning. If you want the process, then I go with it.”

Kirk scowled. “Blackmail, Doctor.”

“A common means of persuasion aboard this vessel, Captain.” Spock commented. Kirk gave him a quick look, but the Vulcan was staring straight ahead, expressionless.

“What did you pack in your kit?” the Captain asked, after a pause.

McCoy smiled triumphantly. “The same stuff you did. I asked the computer for a list of everything you requisitioned from supply for the last week.”

“Logical,” murmured Spock. The lift stopped.

Kirk snapped his fingers. “Bones, you can’t go along, no matter if we want to take you or not. T’Pau only requested clearance for two, didn’t she?” He regarded the Vulcan hopefully.

“I specified clearance for three, Captain. Taking into account Doctor McCoy’s predictable penchant for rushing in where angels fear to tread, I reasoned he would attempt this. There is usually a logical pattern to his illogical behavior.”

They were standing on the transporter pads listening to the whine of the 20-second delay before McCoy thought of a suitably scathing reply. He opened his mouth to deliver it, but the transporter beams caught them, and they dissolved into triple pillars of shimmer.

The planet hasn’t changed,
Kirk thought, as he looked around. The same silvery sky, shading to black overhead, pockmarked with stars. The same ruins, columns fallen and tumbled, some nearly intact, others barely discernible from the natural rocks. The same cold wind, whining like a lost spirit. The same aura of terrible age. The memories, crowding his mind, of the last time. He’d thought it forgotten, buried, but being here, standing in this desolation, brought back the agony.
Edith
... his mind whispered.

“I didn’t notice much of the landscape last time,” McCoy said, as he and Spock stood apart. “Spooky. That wind gets to you after a while. ... Look, there’s what looks like the shell of a temple or something over there.” He pointed. The Vulcan stopped fiddling with his tricorder and looked up.

“The Guardian of Forever lies in that direction, Doctor. For some reason, the ruins are most intact, closer to the time portal.” Spock looked back at his tricorder.

“Guardian of Forever ... sounds like the name of a damn mortuary. ...” the Doctor mumbled. Spock ignored him. McCoy looked at his companion and shook his head. The Vulcan had been too quiet on the three-day voyage. He hadn’t joined the two-day poker game that had left McCoy considerably richer, which was no surprise, but he hadn’t joined the conversation either. The Doctor was worried about him.

[35]
“Hey!” The cheerful hail came from behind them. They turned to see a small, stocky, gray-haired woman approaching. Behind her, and about 150 meters away was a small pre-fab building, whose sides matched the grayness around them so closely that it had escaped their notice.

The woman reached them, puffing a little, and pointed a finger at each of them in turn. “Kirk, Spock, McCoy. I’m Vargas. How do you do?”

“Fine, thank you,” Kirk said, smiling.

“Been expecting you. Let’s get this stuff back home, and we can talk over a cup of coffee. Real coffee, too.” She distributed anti-grav units, and they headed for the building, piloting the supplies and their kits.

The interior of the archeologists’ camp was a pleasant contrast to its drab outside. The walls were covered with paintings and posters, and there were comfortable rugs underfoot. The building housed several labs, a large sitting room, bedrooms for the nine staff members, a kitchen large enough for all of them to eat in and a small but well-stocked library. Doctor Vargas proudly showed them around, introducing them to the eight members of her staff.

After the formalities were completed, the four of them gathered in the kitchen for the promised coffee. Vargas stirred hers emphatically, then fixed her visitors with a narrow-eyed glare. “Please explain to me how the
hell
you managed to get permission to use the Guardian. Who do you know?”

“Doctor Vargas, we are on a rescue mission.” Spock looked grave. “As you already know, the planet we’ve been given permission to visit was destroyed two years ago. Our mission can have no effect on its history, especially since the persons we intend to rescue are in an isolated area, out of their proper time stream. Due to an accident, a ... member of my family was marooned back in the planet’s last ice age, with a native of Sarpeidon who was
[36]
exiled to the past. We intend to bring both of them to the present.”

McCoy heard the lie, and choked on his coffee. Kirk kicked him sharply under the table. The byplay went unnoticed, as Vargas replied, “I must abide by my orders, but I think this is a big mistake. The persons stationed here are all top-ranked archeologists and historians, yet even we are not permitted to go back in time. We are only allowed to observe and record the history pictures, sift the ruins and try to understand the race that lived here when life on Earth was confined to one-celled creatures in the sea. It’s too dangerous to allow travel though the time portal—as you three already know!”

“We know.” Spock toyed with his spoon, and didn’t meet her eyes. “We shall take all precautions to avoid any contact with the indigenous life. Fortunately, the developing humanoid race—which at the time of our visit was just beginning a cultural and technological advance that changed them from nomadic primitives to a city-state with an agrarian economy—this developing race occupied the southern hemisphere of the planet only. We will be searching approximately eight thousand kilometers north of the equator.”

Vargas sighed. “I know that you’ll be careful, but you can’t convince me that anything is worth the risk involved. If only one small event in history happens or doesn’t happen ...”