Star Trek

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know you. The only Vulcan I know isn’t exactly a buddy.”

  It was no consolation that this response seemed to render the oldster as confused as the individual he had just rescued. He seemed to retreat into himself, pondering, contemplating, calculating. Or maybe just fading away—Kirk couldn’t tell. The oldster’s next observation, when it finally came, was worse than confusing. It was frightening.

  What made it worse was that the Vulcan recited it all with utter assurance.

  “You are James T. Kirk. James, after your mother’s father. Tiberius, after your father’s father. Your father is George, as is your elder brother. Your mother’s name is Winona. You were born in the year twenty-two thirty-three on a farm in Iowa…”

  Kirk just stared back at the specter who had saved him. “I was born on a ship. How d’you know these things about me? Who told you about my family, my past? Who are you?”

  By way of response the Vulcan gestured toward the back of the cave. “We need to get away from the entrance, where it is colder and where our scents can be detected. We have much to discuss…”

  By the light of a fire and after Kirk had ravenously devoured food provided by his mysterious host, that worthy proceeded to explain himself. Had he told his guest that he was the reincarnation of an ancient Terran deity, Kirk would have been no less flabbergasted than he was by the actual truth.

  “Though much of what I am about to tell you will be difficult to accept,” the oldster began, “the first thing you need to know is that I am Spock. One hundred and twenty-nine years senior to the Vulcan you know from your days at Starfleet Academy.”

  Kirk considered carefully. His response was, if not eloquent, characteristically terse. Under the circumstances, he could have been excused.

  “Bullshit.”

  “I understand your skepticism.” The individual calling himself Spock responded to Kirk’s challenge without so much as a hint of a smile. That, at least, accorded with his claim. “The odds of us meeting across space-time are so improbable that at the moment of actual confrontation I too wondered if I was dreaming.” Pausing, he looked away. “I have had too much time to dream, and have dreamed too much.” He went silent.

  As Kirk studied the face of the being seated across from him, dawning realization mixed with rising astonishment. “It’s not possible. It’s just not. But it is you. I’ll be damned.”

  “While it is entirely possible that both of us may be, it is remarkably most pleasing to see you again, old friend. Especially after the events of today.”

  Kirk was taken aback afresh. “‘Old friend,’ sir?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know how you know what you know. But I don’t know you and if you are Spock we’re not friends. You hate me. You marooned me here for mutiny.” His expression twisted. “Or for what you and you alone decided was mutiny. Or incipient mutiny. Or insubordination or whatever rationalization you concocted in that perpetually rationalizing brain of yours.”

  Now it was the Vulcan’s turn to looked mystified. “Mutiny? You are not the captain of the Enterprise?”

  Kirk was utterly baffled. “What kind of perverse Vulcan game is this? You’re the captain. Pike was taken hostage. We have no idea if he’s dead or alive.”

  This information caused something to gel within the Vulcan’s thoughts as disparate bits of information came together.

  “Nero.” Spock’s expression tightened ever so slightly. “He is a remarkably—troubled Romulan.”

  Had a human spoken the name, it would have emerged as a curse. Uttered by the old man in the cave, it was, despite all its menacing connotations, just another name.

  “Yes.” At least they agreed on something, Kirk thought. “We left Vulcan—the Vulcan system—to rejoin Starfleet yesterday.”

  His host went silent, once more lost in deep thought. Studying him, Kirk was ambivalent. He wanted, he needed to know what was going on in that venerable mind. At the same time, the thought of what he might find there unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

  What he could not realize was that he was about to get his wish—or realize his fear.

  Rising from where he had been sitting by the fire, his unlikely rescuer approached and extended a hand toward Kirk’s face. “Please. Allow me. It will be easier, faster, and more articulate than talking.”

  His reflexes revived by the food, Kirk thrust out a hand to restrain the reaching fingers. “What’re you doing? The last time you came at me like that you put me out cold.”

  His rescuer paused. “In the wrong hands the mind-meld is potentially lethal. In my culture it’s a way of sharing experiences. You—leastwise, another you—already know that. I repeat it to the you of this time frame.”

  Time frame? Still Kirk hesitated. The memory of the nerve pinch the other Spock (the younger Spock? the alternative Spock?) had delivered on board the bridge was still fresh in his mind.

  “You swear you’re not going to knock me out and store me for food or something?”

  “If I wished to do so, it would already have been done. I promise that you will remain aware throughout the exchange. It is impossible to convey information to the unconscious.” Once more the barest suggestion of a smile played around the deeply lined face. “I speak from experience when I say that you would make an especially tough meal for anyone to digest.”

  Kirk stared back at him. “Damned if I’m not starting to believe you.” He readied himself. “All right—go ahead. With whatever it is I’m supposed to be familiar with.” He released the oldster’s hand.

  Gently, the elder Vulcan placed his fingers against Kirk’s face, fingers to cheek and temple, seeking particular nerve endings, probing for contact. As he did so, he whispered an ancient mantra of his kind.

  “Our minds—one and together.”

  His eyes snapped shut. At the same time Kirk twitched as if an electric charge had been shot through his entire body.

  Billions of stars. Swaths of nebulae, brilliant and flaring. The cosmos revealed. Infinitely vast—and yet all contained and restrained within the dazed but aware mind of James T. Kirk. And permeating it all, another presence besides his own. Another intelligence, beside him and yet with him, speaking solemnly.

  “One hundred and twenty-nine years from now a star will explode and threaten all civilization in this part of the galaxy. That’s where I’m from, Jim—the future. I was ambassador to Romulus. The Federation was mining in the vicinity of a nearby star when it unexpectedly went supernova. The consequences were predicted to destroy everything in its vicinity.

  “As ambassador, I promised the Romulans I would find a way to save their planet. I returned to Vulcan and asked the Science Academy and the Federation to take immediate action. We outfitted our newest, fastest ship. Utilizing Red Matter, I would attempt to create a black hole that would absorb the exploding star and its expanding field of deadly radiation. I was en route to do so when the unthinkable happened. The rate of propagation from the supernova accelerated suddenly and at a velocity previously unrecorded for that type of exploding star. It destroyed Romulus.

  “I could no longer save their homeworld, but I could still stop the expanding supernova. I had little time. Before the first bow wave destroyed my ship I had to extract the Red Matter and shoot it into the supernova. And it worked. The supernova was neutralized by the black hole. All of the radiation and energized particulate matter it was blowing outward fell back and became part of the accretion disk.

  “As I began my sad return journey home I was intercepted. He called himself Nero—last of the Romulan Empire. In my attempt to escape from him, both of us were pulled into the black hole. Nero’s ship went through first—back through time. So he was the first to arrive in this time frame. Nero and his crew spent the next twenty-five years waiting for my arrival. For my emergence from the wormhole.

  “But what was years for Nero was only seconds for me. I went through the black hole. When I arrived here in this day and
time, he was waiting for me. He blamed the Federation for not stopping the supernova and held me, who had promised to help, responsible for the loss of his world. He captured my vessel and spared my life for one reason: so that I would know his pain. He beamed me down here so that I could observe his vengeance. As he was helpless to save his planet, so I would be helpless to save mine. Billions of lives lost, Jim—because of me. Because I failed.

  “And though the means on Delta Vega exists to contact the Federation, it is intermittent. In the end there was nothing I could do to stop him. The local communications facilities proved inadequate and I was unable to issue a warning in time.”

  Kirk blinked. The dream he had been dreaming vanished as Spock drew back and lowered his hands. The meld had been terminated. But everything Kirk had experienced remained in his mind, fresh and clear as if he had conceived it for himself.

  “Didn’t—didn’t you try to explain to Nero that if he just left you alone in this time frame you could destroy the unstable star before it went supernova and thereby save Romulus? Wouldn’t you then be working to achieve the same purpose, the same ends?”

  “I did indeed. But as I said, he would not listen to me. Consumed with rage and regret and anger at the destruction of his world that had already taken place in our own future, he was convinced that if he let me go I would simply disappear and allow the Romulus of this time frame to also eventually be destroyed. He is utterly convinced that, regardless of the time frame, only Romulus will be allowed to suffer destruction and that this has been the real intent of the Vulcan and the galactic councils all along. That they sought and still seek a galactic civilization without Romulus. So he made clear that he would strive, in this time frame, to create a galaxy with Romulus but without the Federation. After utilizing the Red Matter device to destroy Vulcan and the other Federation worlds, only then would he use it to annihilate the star that would become the destructive supernova.”

  “That’s,” Kirk searched for an appropriate frame of reference, “that’s—irrational.”

  Spock nodded slightly. “Just so. But how many times throughout history have great catastrophes been caused by individuals acting in an irrational manner? I am convinced that even if he once was, Nero is now no longer entirely sane. Having already witnessed the destruction of his entire homeworld once, he is unwilling to rely on the word of a representative of the people he blames for its destruction to now prevent it in the past. From his viewpoint that may be a logical conclusion. He would rather destroy the Federation and ensure the survival of Romulus in this time frame than give me a chance to save both.” He broke off, the agony of his loss and his failure having communicated itself whole and entire to the shaken human standing across from him.

  “Forgive me—emotional transference is an effect of the mind-meld.”

  Kirk did not try to hide his surprise. “So you do feel.”

  “Cthia is the stricture that binds our emotions, but it is harder to sustain for the few of us who are not wholly Vulcan.”

  The younger man just stared, still trying to digest all that he had been shown. “Going back in time, you changed all our lives. Because of this, our futures will no longer be what they once were.”

  Spock nodded solemnly. “Yet remarkably, events within our different time lines—characteristics, people—seem to overlap significantly.”

  A million questions, Kirk thought to himself. He had at least a million questions. This elder Spock must know of so many things. Not just advances in science, but the future of individuals. In his future he would know, among others, James T. Kirk. What was his future self like? Kirk couldn’t help but wonder. On initially meeting him here Spock had called him “captain.” Captain of the Enterprise? The Vulcan elder was quite certain in his tone. At the moment, Kirk felt his future seemed to hold out the promise of a court-martial, not a promotion.

  What had happened in the future to change him and the circumstances in which he presently found himself? Now that this time paradox had intervened, would that future still take place? Would someone, sometime, still refer to James Kirk as “captain”? Or would it be “inmate”? Or worse?

  It struck him suddenly that this elder Spock’s future had already been determined—but that in this time frame the future, including his own, was yet to be made. Future Kirk’s destiny was set. His own was still his to make. And if they did not do something about the other intruder from the future, the Romulan known as Nero, then if Spock was to be believed, all futures would be wiped out. This corner of the cosmos would be left sterile and dead—except for present-day Romulus.

  His head was starting to hurt as he struggled to resolve all the potential contradictions. All the possible futures.

  Enough about projected tomorrows, he told himself. Right now everything demanded that he focus on the present.

  “So Nero has a chance at revenge. And a weapon that can destroy the Federation.” He stared at the elder Spock. “Your weapon.”

  “The device was designed and built to save, not to destroy. Throughout history great power has often been put to uses which its discoverer did not foresee or intend. In this instance, the discoverer was the Vulcan Science Academy. In your own history, consider among other examples what happened to the work of Alfred Nobel.” The strain of isolation and the burden of guilt was plainly weighing heavily on the elder Spock.

  “But let us pause a moment to consider other things. I cannot restrain my own curiosity. Tell me about the rest of the crew of—I am presuming you were of course on the Enterprise. Knowing only their future selves, I wonder if and how they exist in this continuum. What of Chekov, Uhura…?”

  “Tactical and communications,” Kirk told him.

  “Sulu?”

  “He’s the helmsman, why?”

  “Doctor McCoy would assert our meeting here is not a matter of coincidence, but rather indication of a higher purpose.”

  Kirk nodded. “He’d call it a miracle.”

  “Yes.” Spock turned speculative again. “It may represent the time stream’s way of attempting to mend itself. We know far too little about the physics of such deviations to determine actualities and can only speculate on how they function in the greater continuum. In both our histories the same crew found its way onto the same ship in a time of ultimate crisis. Therein lies our advantage. It suggests that whatever the future of this present may hold, it does not deviate so radically from mine that ultimate catastrophe cannot be avoided. We must hope that events bear this out. Indeed, we can only proceed on that assumption.” He turned and gestured.

  “We must go. The future past waits for no man—or Vulcan. There is a largely automated Federation outpost not far from here. It is the location of the inadequate communications facilities to which I referred earlier and which provides me with the minimum of necessities that allow me to sustain my miserable existence. Having no hope of saving my world and not wishing to further inflict the paradox that is myself on this unknowing present, I have taken to dwelling apart from it and its few inhabitants. Paradoxically—if I may continue to employ the term—this very self-isolation has resulted in my encountering you. As I said, perhaps the time stream attempting to heal itself.

  “While I can no longer do anything for Vulcan in this time frame, I cannot stand by and watch while Nero destroys your future. Possibly between the two of us we can yet do something to stop him.” Reaching out, he briefly rested a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “It was so, once. Perhaps it can yet be so again.”

  Kirk pondered. He was ready to follow this intriguing, curious, and enigmatic being who insisted he came from the future. But that did not mean he was without questions of his own.

  “Where you come from—in your future—did I know my father?”

  Spock responded without hesitation. “Yes. You often spoke of him as your inspiration for joining Starfleet. Indeed, as the inspiration for everything that you became. He was, I believe, immensely proud of what you accomplished.”

  “That mea
ns—I must have accomplished something besides a spell in prison.”

  Sharply angled eyebrows drew together. “Prison, Jim?”

  Kirk waved it off. “It’s nothing. At least, I hope it turns out to be nothing. But that’s a matter for the future, isn’t it? The future that lies ahead of us and that we’re going to try to sway.”

  “The future that we must sway,” Spock corrected him. “Otherwise there will not be one. Not for you, not for your father, not for anyone.”

  Kirk was still trying to imagine what life would be like had his father not perished years ago trying to stop Nero. The sleeve of one arm wiped across his eyes.

  “I am responsible for whatever is upsetting you,” Spock commented immediately. “That was never my intention. Something you should know: he proudly lived to see you become captain of the Enterprise.”

  Captain. That was how this Spock had addressed him when they had first encountered one another. It was still hard to accept.

  It would be even harder for this Spock to accept if he knew the current James Kirk’s history.

  “‘Captain’? Are you sure?”

  Spock nodded. “Of a ship we must return you to as soon as possible if we are to have any hope of stopping Nero.”

  XIV

  It was quiet on the bridge. Each officer, each refugee, carried out their duties efficiently, silently, and lost in thought. The immediate past had been devastating. What the near future might bring no one could say, but the encounter at Vulcan had left everyone wondering not about careers or promotions but far more elemental matters. Family. Homeworlds. The future of the Federation itself.

  In the center of it all stood Acting Captain Spock. Everyone wanted to offer him comfort. Everyone desired to express their condolences. And none of them quite knew how to go about doing so. With one exception, and she had already expressed her empathy in every way she knew how.