Yesterday's Son

by A. C. Crispin

  Captain James T. Kirk, Commanding

  CURRENT ASSIGNMENT:

  Patrol of sector 90.4, code name, Gateway.

  PROBLEM:

  Have picked up blips of three vessels at extreme range of subspace scanner, have identified intruders as originating from sector RN-30.2, Romulan Neutral Zone.

  TENTATIVE IDENTIFICATION:

  Romulan warships.

  ESTIMATED TIME OF CONTACT:

  10.5 hours.

  EVALUATION:

  Military engagement probable. Request immediate assistance.

  MAYDAY—DISTRESS—MAYDAY—DISTRESS—MAYDAY—

  Kirk too three deep breaths, closing his eyes, ordering his thinking. Straightening, he addressed Ensign Chekov, who was watching him expectantly, "Present course, Mr. Chekov?"

  "Two-nine-zero mark five, sir."

  "Change course to seven-four-six mark six."

  "Aye, sir. . . ." Chekov turned to his panel, turned back after a short pause. "Course laid in, sir."

  "Helm, ahead warp factor eight, Mr. Sulu."

  The almond-shaped eyes widened, and Sulu made an adjustment. The barely perceptible vibrations of the ship suddenly increased. The Enterprise hummed. Kirk began counting seconds in his head. He'd reached eleven when the intercom flashed. Flipping the channel open, he smiled grimly. "Yes, Mr. Scott?"

  The intercom was silent for a long moment, as Chief Engineer Scott evidently wondered if his Captain had developed telepathy. Finally, he spoke, voice subdued, "Captain. I suppose you've a good reason for taxin' m' poor engines like this?"

  "A very good reason, Mr. Scott."

  "Aye, sir." The Chief Engineer must have looked at his stress readouts, because he said, "How long will we be runnin' at this ungodly speed, sir?"

  "About twelve hours, Mr. Scott. We'll alternate with warp nine whenever the engines will take it."

  There was a long, reproachful silence, then a sigh. "Aye, sir."

  In spite of his anxiety, Kirk smiled. "Hold 'er together, Scotty. I'm calling a briefing in five minutes. Main briefing room. Kirk out."

  He heard the doors to the bridge, then Spock was standing beside him. The Vulcan ran a quick eye over the helm controls, and turned to him, inquiring without words.

  Kirk nodded. "We've got a problem, Mr. Spock." He handed the readout to the First Officer, who scanned it with a steadily ascending eyebrow. The Captain turned to Uhura. "Contact Doctor McCoy and inform him of the briefing. I'll see you in the main briefing room in three minutes. Spock, with me."

  The room was hushed as Kirk summarized the situation, concluding. "We have an unusual problem here. We in this room made up the landing party that discovered the Guardian, and know its capabilities as a time portal. Therefore I caution you to remember that, to our crewmates, we are assisting the Lexington because of unauthorized Romulan entry into our space—and that's all. No other crew member of either ship must learn about the Guardian. That includes Commodore Wesley and his officers. Is that clear?" Nods rippled around the table. "Good. I speculate that the entry of three vessels represents a scouting force only. Any other ideas?"

  Spock steepled his fingers, then said slowly, "Captain, Romulan battle tactics are far from crude. These ships may be a diversionary force—masking the arrival of a fleet."

  Scotty was nodding. "Aye, sir. It'd be a good idea t' increase th' patrol along th' Neutral Zone. At least that way, we'd have some warnin' if we have t' face a larger force."

  Kirk looked thoughtful. "Lieutenant Uhura, send a complete report of the situation—including Mr. Scott's advisement—to Star Fleet Command. Refer to the Guardian by the planet's code name, Gateway. Send the message to Admiral Komack, code 11."

  "Aye, sir."

  "Mr. Scott, instruct the helm to go to yellow alert. Dismissed. Spock, please remain."

  The briefing room emptied rapidly.

  The Captain looked at the Vulcan bleakly. "Any ideas, Spock?"

  "Insufficient data at this time—as you well know, Captain."

  "Yes, I do know. It would be safer to holler for help throughout Star Fleet—but the secrecy surrounding the Guardian forbids that. After all, two starships ought to be able to handle three Romulans without any trouble. It'd arouse a lot of suspicion if I called in the cavalry over a burned-out sun and a few burned-out planets—one of which has a small archeological dig."

  "As soon as Admiral Komack receives your communication, he will detail sufficient strength to this sector—he has the authority you lack."

  "I only hope we're not too late. . . . When I remember what one man did back in time, unintentionally, I shudder when I think about what the Romulans could do deliberately. The past is so damn fragile—which reminds me of something I've been wanting to talk to you about. What's to become of Zar?"

  The Vulcan looked blank. "What do you mean, Captain? Elucidate, please."

  "I mean that I've kept quiet and let him stay aboard the Enterprise until he became somewhat adjusted to modern society. It wouldn't have been fair to him to turn him loose in a world he couldn't cope with—nor would it have been fair to our society to turn Zar loose on it, I'm afraid!" Kirk grinned, remembering the younger man's first weeks aboard ship. "However, he's caught up remarkably, and the fact remains that he's a civilian. And, no matter how peaceful our intentions, this is still a military vessel—especially now. So what are your plans for him—assuming we get out of this?"

  Spock considered for a long moment. "I don't know, Captain. You are right, of course. It is against regulations for him to remain aboard the Enterprise."

  "What about Vulcan? You could take him yourself. You've still got enough leave for five men. Then he could stay with your parents—"

  Spock was shaking his head. "No. Zar would be at a disadvantage on Vulcan. The climate, for one thing. The thin air, the heat, would make adjustment difficult."

  "As I recall, the air was pretty thin back there in that ice age. He's healthy—he'd get used to the heat."

  "He'd need constant attendance and guardianship. Vulcan has an old, custom-ridden culture. He speaks the language, but he is not prepared for the social structure. It would be … extremely difficult."

  "I don't think you're giving him enough credit. He'd adjust. I think it'd be just as difficult—maybe more—for you."

  Spock looked up. Kirk nodded. "Difficult for you, because there's walking, talking proof that you're not infallible. Difficult for him, because he's krenath."

  The Vulcan's eyes narrowed. "Where did you hear that word?"

  "Zar mentioned it once. Said it means 'shamed ones.' Also, 'bastard.'"

  The First Officer's eyes were hooded, unfathomable, his face an alien mask that Kirk had seen only once or twice before. "Zar doesn't understand the semantic content. Nor do you."

  The Captain stood up. "Well, a discussion of semantics was not what I had in mind when I brought the subject up. I just wanted you to be aware that the change will have to be made. When we go to yellow alert, tell him he's confined to quarters—no, tell him to report to McCoy, in sickbay. That's the best-shielded part of the ship, and Bones may need help in handling wounded, if there's a fight."

  Spock raised an eyebrow. "If? Hostilities seem likely, Jim."

  "I'm afraid you're right."

  Zar was confused and excited. He'd awakened from a restless sleep to find a message flashing on the screen in his quarters. Now, in response to Spock's orders, he hurried through the corridors toward sickbay. The ship was strangely deserted, and a yellow light flashed from each signal panel. A contingent of security personnel, including his friend David, passed him at a dead run, as though he were invisible.

  Sickbay was a scene of furious activity. Doctor McCoy, Nurse Chapel and the other medical personnel were checking and sorting supplies, and rigging temporary cots in the labs. McCoy looked up and saw the younger man standing hesitantly in the doorway. "Zar—glad you're here. Go into the storage area and lug that old-fashioned coronary stimulator and the battery res
uscitator into that corner there. If we lose power we may need them."

  The Chief Surgeon kept all of them scrambling for the next two hours, then straightened, looking around the transformed sickbay, and addressed his staff. "Guess that's all we can do for now. Report back when we go to red alert. Zar, you stay here."

  When they were alone, the younger man looked wonderingly at the preparations. "What's going to happen?"

  "You mean nobody told you?"

  "No, Mr. Spock just told me to come here and help you any way I could."

  "Well, Spock's got a lot of things on his mind, I guess. We've received a distress call from the Lexington, another Federation starship. She reported unauthorized entry of Romulan vessels into our space. When you're talking about Romulans, that generally means an act of war."

  "War? You mean the Enterprise is going to fight?" The gray eyes gleamed.

  "Probably, and don't get any ideas about going up to the bridge. The Captain would toss you out on your pointed ear. You're staying down here, where you'll be out of the way. I can use those muscles of yours to help if there are casualties."

  "When will we fight?"

  "I don't know. We'd better get there soon, or our engines will burn out, and our first patient will be Scotty."

  "And I have to stay here? There's nothing to see!"

  McCoy sighed. "Bloodthirsty, aren't you? Get this straight, Zar. There is absolutely nothing glamorous or thrilling about any war, and interstellar conflicts are no exception. You'll realize that when you see your friends coming through that door—horizontally."

  "I've heard of the Romulans, but very little. They're deadly and brutal enemies, according to what I've read. What are they like?"

  McCoy's grin was sardonic. "Go look in the mirror."

  "They're Vulcans?"

  "Not exactly. An offshoot of the parent stock that went their separate way long before Vulcans adopted their philosophy of peace and total objectivity. The Romulans are what the Vulcans were long ago—unprincipled and warlike. As far as we know, their culture is a kind of military theocracy. Not too unlike the ancient Spartans of Earth's history."

  Zar nodded absently, suddenly withdrawn. "I've read of them. 'With your shield or on it.' Like the Japanese culture of the early twentieth century on Earth."

  McCoy's eyes had narrowed, watching him. "There was something about what I said just now that you didn't like." He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "Let's see … could it be the reference to the nature of Vulcans in the remote past? Say, 5,000 years ago?"

  The Doctor didn't miss the barely perceptible start, quickly replaced by a carefully neutral mask. The younger man twitched a shoulder in that annoying half-shrug. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "The hell you don't. You're a worse liar than Spock. Jim told me he talked with you. I can imagine what you're thinking about your father, but—"

  "I'd rather not discuss it." Zar interrupted. McCoy had seen that expression before, silent, stubborn, distant. It had plagued him for years on another face, and it angered him now.

  "You acted like a ten-year-old today in the mess hall. God knows, I'm not usually put in the position of defending Spock, but you shouldn't have insulted him, especially in front of me and Scotty. Grow up. Whatever happened back in that ice age on Sarpeidon has nothing to do with—"

  "I said, I don't want to discuss it!" The gray eyes were beginning to shine queerly, and the big hands with their lean, sinewy fingers clenched and unclenched. Against his will, McCoy found himself remembering how hard similar hands had felt as they locked themselves around his throat, felt again the damp rock of the cave wall against his back. A stir of fear (remembered, or present?) touched his spine like an icy splinter.

  In spite of the fear—or because of it—McCoy felt his eyebrow climb, and heard the old cynical edge in his voice. "I've got a real talent for provoking supposedly logical, unemotional beings, don't I? Or is it that they just can't stand to hear the truth about themselves?"

  Zar's mouth tightened, then his shoulders sagged and he nodded wearily. "You're right. I'm sorry about what happened. I wish I could tell him so, but he'd just look at me, and I'd feel confused and stupid all over again. It's like trying to move a mountain with your hands, and it'll never be any different." He shook his head. "As soon as the Enterprise makes port, I've got to leave."

  "Leave?" The Doctor forced a calm he didn't feel, realizing suddenly how much he'd miss the younger man. "Where would you go?"

  The gray eyes measured his concern, softened. "I've been thinking about it. I need a place where I can stand by myself, on my own. A place where what I am, the things I know how to do, would be needed, not a handicap. Maybe on one of the frontier planets …" Something touched the corners of his mouth that wasn't a smile. "I'll let you know where. You're almost the only one who would care—he certainly wouldn't."

  "You're wrong. After all, he—"

  "Found me." Zar interrupted wearily, nodding. "The simple fact of my existence mattered to him. I don't. There's only one person Commander Spock cares deeply for, and that's …" He trailed off as though remembering that he was speaking aloud. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he finished, very softly, "Not me."

  McCoy dared to put out a hand, touch the rigid shoulder. "Give it time, son. It's even harder for him than it is for you. Parenthood is never simple—even if you come to it in the usual fashion, much less have it dropped in your lap. It's not easy—I should know, I've made a pretty botched job of my attempt."

  "You?" Zar looked up. "What do you mean?"

  "I was married … for a while. I've got a daughter named Joanna. She's about your age."

  "Where is she?"

  "She's in medical school. She took nurse's training, then decided to specialize, and went back for her M.D. I've got a picture of her I'll show you, sometime. She's pretty—takes after her mother, fortunately."

  Zar was interested. "Is she like you … nice, I mean?"

  McCoy chuckled. "She's nicer than I am—a real charmer. Haven't seen her in three years, but she's supposed to graduate in six months, and I'll try to be there. If you're around then, I'll introduce you … no, maybe that wouldn't be smart. . . ."

  The gray eyes were puzzled. "What do you mean?"

  "I've seen the effect those damned ears have on the average female's hormones—and illogical as it is, all fathers tend to be over-protective."

  The younger man was taken aback, then relaxed as the Doctor's grin broadened. "Oh …" he said, sheepishly. "You're joking with me …"

  Without warning, an alarm shrieked. Zar jumped. Lieutenant Uhura's voice could be heard throughout the ship. "Red alert. All stations, go to red alert. Battle stations, red alert." The siren continued to whoop.

  McCoy stood up and his face hardened. "Here we go. At least the waiting is over."

  Chapter XI

  "All stations report red alert status, Captain," Uhura said.

  "Entering sector 90.4, sir," Sulu's voice was calm.

  "Decrease to sublight, helm, Lieutenant Uhura, are you picking up anything?"

  "Yes, sir. We're being hailed by the Lexington."

  "Put it on audio, Lieutenant."

  "Aye, sir."

  A stutter of static, then a harried voice filled the bridge. Uhura made a hasty adjustment. "… lost our aft deflectors. Enemy vessels closing. Enterprise, are you there? Come in, Enterprise."

  "Open a channel, Lieutenant. Scramble it."

  "Aye, sir. . . . Go ahead, sir."

  Kirk kept his eyes fixed on the forward viewing screen as he spoke. "This is Captain Kirk of the Enterprise here, we are receiving you, Lexington. What is your status? Over."

  A new voice. "Jim? This is Bob Wesley. We've held them off until now, but our aft deflectors are gone, and our port shield won't take another direct hit. Over."

  "Hold on, Bob. . . .I've got you on my screens." One large star and three smaller ones materialized and grew rapidly until the bridge crew could see the wounde
d vessel. The smaller Romulan ships circled her cautiously, wary of her greater firepower. Every time an opening presented itself, one of them would take advantage of their faster maneuverability to dart in, fire, and pull back out before the Lexington could bring her weaponry to bear.

  "Ready forward phaser banks, Mr. Sulu."

  "Phaser banks ready, sir."

  "Fire a ten-second blast amidships on my order, then change course immediately to four-five-two, point zero, mark."

  "Course four-five-two, point zero, mark, as soon as we've fired, aye sir. Phasers standing by."

  Kirk scanned the instrument panel, counted seconds, then said quietly, "Fire." The deadly beams shot out, impaling the central Romulan warship directly. A sudden, blinding explosion flooded the viewscreen, then was gone as the Enterprise changed course. As the crew waited tensely, there came a shudder, then a slight lurch.

  "A hit on the starboard deflectors, Captain, but not serious," Sulu reported.

  "Change course to five-three-eight, mark two-four, Mr. Sulu. Let's go after the others."

  "Aye, sir. . . . The Lexington just fired her main banks, sir."

  Kirk was already watching the instruments, between glances at the viewing screen. The hit was a glancing one, and the Romulan was able to turn away, though she appeared to have limited maneuverability.

  "That scorched her tail-feathers some. . . ." Commodore Wesley's voice came over the channel.

  Kirk raised his voice, "Bob, I don't see the other one. Do you scan?"

  "She used her cloaking device about a second after we fired."

  "Prepare to pursue the one that was crippled, Mr. Sulu. Course three-two-six, mark zero-four."

  "Aye, sir. Three-two-six, mark zero-four. . . . Captain, she just faded off the screen."

  Kirk turned to his Science Officer. "Spock, switch all your sensors to infrared. We should be able to pick them up by their heat emissions, even if we can't see them or scan them."

  The Vulcan bent over his sensors, and straightened after tense moments. "Negative, Captain. I picked up a faint trail, but they changed course often enough to mask it. This sector is full of radiation distortions that make scanning unreliable."