Yesterday's Son

by A. C. Crispin

  Spock straightened up from his sensors, frowning slightly. He jiggled a switch, punched buttons, recalibrated for possible—though unlikely—atmospheric disturbance. The reading didn't change. He flicked the intercom switch. In a moment, the Captain's voice responded, a little fuzzily, "Kirk here."

  "My apologies for waking you, Captain, but there is something on my sensors you should see."

  "On my way," came the now wide-awake response.

  The Captain reached the bridge, found Spock sitting in the command chair, chin on hand.

  "What's going on?"

  "I have been monitoring the planet's surface, and the emanations from the ruins."

  "There's been a change of some kind?"

  For answer, the First Officer moved to the sensors, and pressed buttons. He lowered his voice. "When I first began monitoring, the surface readings showed this." A set of figures flashed onto the screen. Spock pressed another button. "Then, exactly six point four minutes ago, the readings dropped, and have remained constant again, but on a slightly lower level." He showed another set of figures.

  "As though the emanations from the Guardian have been slightly … damped …" Kirk murmured, studying the figures.

  "Exactly."

  "What could cause that effect?"

  "A number of things. It could be the result of a natural change in the time emanations from the ruins. Or, it could be the result of a containing energy field of some kind."

  "Force field?" Kirk wondered.

  "Possible. However, I should be able to pick up the presence of a force field, and my sensors show nothing. In fact, there is a curious lack of positive readings from the entire area of the Guardian."

  "What about life-form readings—the landing party?"

  "I recalibrated for the time disturbances … I haven't been monitoring the landing party."

  The Captain swung around. "Lieutenant Uhura, what's the latest from the landing party?"

  "They reported that the communications system on the planet was out of commission completely and that they would be using belt communicators. That was almost two and a half hours ago. About an hour ago they signaled that they were beaming up the collection of artifacts, which they did. They're due to check back in again momentarily, sir." She broke off, fingers dancing across her board. "There's something coming in now, Captain."

  Kirk and Spock moved to stand beside her, as she listened intently. Finally, she looked up at them, dark eyes serious. "Captain, it's a message from Admiral Komack. Star Base One has just reported that ten Romulan vessels breached the Neutral Zone, heading in the direction of this sector. Their ETA is fourteen hours. He's dispatched five starships and a dreadnought—at maximum warp, they should arrive in fourteen and a half hours. Maybe less."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant. Contact the landing party. Tell them to stand by to beam up. Inform Lieutenant Harris that if Doctor Vargas gives him any problems, he has my permission to bring her forcibly. I can't have anyone left on that surface."

  "Aye, sir." She turned back to her communications console.

  "Spock, keep monitoring those emanations. Let me know if there's any further change in those readings." The Captain lowered his voice. "If there's even a chance that Romulans might reach the Guardian, we've got to prevent it. Even if that means destroying Gateway."

  The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "Captain, the scientific loss would be—"

  "Irreparable. I know. But I may have no choice." Kirk turned back to the communications console. "Lieutenant, do you have that channel to the landing party yet?"

  Uhura shook her head, adjusted the receptor in her ear, tried again. And again. Finally she looked back at Kirk, who was watching her tensely. "I'm sorry, sir. They don't answer. None of them answer."

  Chapter XII

  Over Spock's protests, Kirk led the rescue party himself. When they arrived at the coordinates of the first landing party, they found the area deserted. The rescue party huddled together, feeling the bite of the wind, while McCoy scanned the surroundings.

  "No life-form readings—wait—very faint. This way." They began to run.

  What was left of the landing party, as well as the archeologists, was strewn outside the wrecked camp building. Kirk clamped his teeth on his lip, and closed his eyes. A moment later, in control again, he joined McCoy, who was stooped over a prone figure.

  Doctor Vargas was hardly recognizable. As the Captain approached, McCoy caught his eye and shook his head quickly.

  "Can she talk, Bones?"

  "I doubt it."

  At the sound of their voices, the battered form stirred and opened its eyes. "Kirk …" The voice was so faint that the Captain shoved McCoy out of the way and nearly laid his ear on her mouth. He realized that she couldn't see him, and took her hand.

  "I'm here, Doctor Vargas … who was it?"

  "… Rom …"

  "Can you give her anything to help her talk, Bones?"

  McCoy shook his head grimly. "No, Jim. Any stimulants will hasten the end."

  "I didn't ask you that! Can you give her anything so she can talk?"

  "Cordrazine, or trimethylphenidate, but—"

  "Dammit, Bones, give 'em to her! I've got to know if the Romulans found the Guardian!"

  McCoy mumbled under his breath, but got out his hypo, and Kirk heard it hiss as he held it against her arm. She opened her eyes, moaned.

  "Did they find out the truth, Doctor Vargas?" He shook her slightly. "Do they know the location of the Guardian?"

  "No … they had no drugs … crude methods … Torquemada … we fought … too many, too. . . . strong. But we didn't … tell. Stop them. . . ." Her eyes closed, then opened wide, and she lurched under Kirk's hands. He heard her ragged gasps, then her voice again, astonishingly clear. "You must stop them. My Guardian … must not be used for …" The blue eyes closed again, then opened as her head lolled back. The Captain lowered her gently to the ground, as McCoy closed the eyes.

  The rescue team was standing behind him when Kirk stood up. Masters, the Chief of Security, spoke up. "We checked, sir. No survivors. Butchers … seven of my people …" He swallowed, then spoke in a more normal tone. "Burial detail, Captain?"

  "For sixteen? Ground's too hard. Have stretchers and body bags beamed down. Communications on scramble—tight beam. We don't want to be monitored. We'll have a group service when … when this is all over. Did they all die the same way?"

  "Tortured? Yes. Why, Captain?"

  Kirk clenched his fists, took a deep breath. "For information they couldn't have given, because they didn't have it. The archeologists are the real heroes. They died rather than tell. Have you searched the building?"

  "Yes, sir. Ransacked. It's a good thing they got their records out."

  "Yes, it is. I only wish we'd gotten the people out, too. Have you taken care of identification, or does McCoy need to get retinal patterns?"

  "I took care of it, sir."

  "Very well. Get that equipment down here on the double. If we stick around much longer, we may join them."

  "Aye, sir."

  Kirk beckoned to McCoy. "Let's check the Guardian. Set your phaser to kill."

  The two walked amid the tumbled ruins until the camp building was behind them. The Captain halted, scanned the area, then took a small pair of distance lenses, scanned it again. He shook his head. "Bones, check our location on your tricorder."

  The Doctor rattled off a string of coordinates. Kirk frowned. "I don't understand … we should be able to see it from here. Yet the landscape ahead is …" His voice changed. "Bones, it's not there. Where … do you suppose they've managed to move it somehow?"

  "Hell, no, Jim. They couldn't move that thing. It must weigh tons. Besides, I'll bet it wouldn't operate in a different location. Where could it be, though?"

  The Captain took out his communicator, adjusted the instrument to scramble. "Kirk to Enterprise."

  "Enterprise, Spock here."

  "Have you been advised as to status here?"
>
  "Affirmative, Captain."

  "Are you still monitoring the readings from the ruins?"

  "Yes, Captain. They've remained steady, at the level you saw them."

  "Very well. Kirk out."

  The Captain took another long look at the area, eyes puzzled. Ruins, fallen columns, blue-gray boulders, ashy sand … and that was all. "It can't just have vanished, Bones! It must be out there, some—" He broke off and turned to the Doctor. "That's it! It is out there, just where it should be—we just can't see it!" McCoy stared at him. Kirk nodded excitedly. "A new kind of cloaking device. They're projecting some sort of camouflage image at us. The Guardian is about a hundred meters in front of us, but hidden by this … planetary cloaking device."

  "You could be right, Jim. Sounds reasonable to me. If you are, though, how in hell are you going to keep the Romulans from using the Guardian—if we can't find it ourselves?"

  "Can you scan it on your tricorder? Pick up any life-form readings that would tell us where they're located in there?"

  The Medical Officer's tricorder hummed, then he shook his head disgustedly. "The time energies show up, but that's all. No way to pinpoint anything else. We're blind instrumentally, as well as visually."

  Kirk looked thoughtful. "That gives me the beginnings of an idea … let's go back."

  The first thing McCoy and Kirk saw when they materialized in the transporter room was Zar. The pallor of his face made his eyes look nearly black. His voice shook. "The landing party … they're all dead, aren't they? If only I had known earlier, they might still be alive … Juan and Dave … Doctor Vargas …"

  McCoy stared, realized the younger man was in shock. Kirk moved, grabbed one rigid arm, shook it. The Captain's voice had the crack of an order. "Bones. Help me get him to sickbay."

  Zar moved like an automaton as they propelled him into sickbay and pushed him into a seat. The Doctor worriedly took his pulse, glanced at Kirk. "Snap out of it, son. How'd you know about the landing party?"

  The gray eyes blinked, lost some of their glazed look. "I … knew. The same way I knew … before. My head hurt, and I felt sick when I realized why the Romulans were attacking. The pain got worse—I passed out—and then it stopped. When I remembered the only time it had ever happened before, I knew that they were all dead." He slumped in his seat. "All dead … I might have been able to save them, if I hadn't …"

  Kirk handed him a cup of black coffee, watched narrowly as the shaking fingers took it, then steadied the cup as it sloshed. "Take it easy, Zar. What do you mean, you know why the Romulans attacked?"

  "It was obvious. They invaded this system to find the Guardian. It's potentially a deadly weapon. When I asked the computer about this sector, it didn't even know the time portal existed, so it must be classified. I wonder how the Romulans found out?"

  "I don't know." Kirk shrugged, then pulled McCoy to one side as they watched Zar lean his head in his hands, exhausted. "What do you think, Bones?"

  "I don't know, Jim. Precognition? Clairvoyance? Empathy with his friends' terror? I can't make guesses without more data."

  The Captain's mouth tightened. "You're starting to sound like his father. I've got to get back to the bridge. Meanwhile, find out everything you can about this. It could be useful."

  After Kirk left, McCoy gave his patient another cup of coffee. "Feeling better?"

  "Yes." Zar shook his head. "I can hardly believe it, though. I talked to them only a few hours ago … then, to see them like that …" He pushed the cup away.

  "But you weren't there. You couldn't see—"McCoy stopped.

  "Yes, I did. In your mind, when you touched me."

  "I'm sorry." McCoy scanned the features in front of him, realized that they were leaner, more drawn than they'd been seven weeks ago. The new maturity made him look less human, more like—"Zar, when did you start having these feelings of being sick?"

  "Almost as soon as I said good-bye to Juan and Dave. Then I started drawing, and I drew Doctor Vargas. I tried to forget it, but it kept coming back, getting stronger, and finally, I passed out from the pain. When I came to, I was fine. It was only later, while I was talking to … someone, when I realized what the sickness meant. . . ."

  "What time was it the worst?"

  "About two and a half hours after the landing party beamed down."

  When they died … McCoy thought, remembering his brief examination of the bodies.

  "You say this happened to you once before? When?"

  The younger man's face was haunted. "When … she died … seven years ago. I'd forgotten, almost—I guess I wanted to forget. That's why I didn't connect it … it never worked for me—the time the vitha almost killed me, I had no warning. But when she fell … I was hunting, nearly … it must have been eight kilometers away. I felt the warning—sick, my head hurt, my stomach—and I knew something was wrong. I started to run back … I was about halfway when the pain came, and I knew it had happened. It knocked me out. . . . When I got there, I was too late … she was already … she'd been dead for at least an hour. . . ."

  McCoy shook his head, and could think of nothing to say. Zar sat for a while, expression remote, then turned back to the Doctor. "When I realized that I had felt the same way as when my mother died, I knew that something must've happened to my friends, and that there was nothing I could do." His hands clenched. "That's the worst thing. To know it's going to happen, and that there's no way to stop it. Also, how am I going to manage, if every time I care about somebody and they die, I … feel it, too?"

  "The more versed you become in the Vulcan mind-control techniques, the better off you'll be, I suspect." McCoy said. "That's not much comfort at the moment, I know. Incidentally, if you get any more of these … feelings, let me and the Captain know."

  "All right."

  "Now you'd better get out of here, and get some sleep. You look like you could use it, and I've got some unpleasant work ahead."

  Zar nodded and left. McCoy got a gown and gloves out of supplies, and went into the pathology bay, mentally gritting his teeth.

  "So we have a problem." The Captain paced a few steps at the head of the briefing room table. "We know that the Romulans have activated the planetary cloaking device so that it surrounds the Guardian. As long as that device is activated, we have no way of determining where the Romulans are inside the perimeter of the screen. Also, we have no idea of the numbers we're facing. If we beam down a detachment, attempt to penetrate the encampment, we may find ourselves in their laps as soon as we step through … facing much greater numbers. Spock has calculated the area of the cloaking device, and it's large enough to mask a force of considerable strength. Every moment that goes by, is another that the Romulans have to use the Guardian. Our instruments are no help, except to tell us the size of the field. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't already used the time portal, but we're still here, so I must assume they haven't. Yes, Lieutenant?" His gaze fixed on Uhura.

  "Captain, you're basing a lot of your thinking on the premise that the Romulans know what the Guardian is—its capabilities as a time portal." Uhura shook her head thoughtfully. "Perhaps we ought to examine that. There are—how many would you say? Maybe twenty persons in the entire Federation—including the five of us here—who know about the Guardian. What makes you think the Romulans know about it?"

  A babble of voices filled the briefing room. Uhura raised a hand for quiet, got it and continued, "Romulan knowledge of the powers of the Guardian would imply a security leak of some kind. To Star Fleet's knowledge, there's been no such leak." The dark-skinned woman leaned forward, eyes intent. "I don't believe there's been a leak, either. I don't think the Romulans know what the Guardian is, at all. I think they learned that we were guarding this planet for some unknown purpose. The Romulans probably assume that the Federation is protecting some military secret that's hidden on Gateway. Something manmade, an installaton of some kind. Why else would a full-time guard of a starship be assigned to a burned-out cinder like that?
" Uhura paused again, then continued. "Think of what it was like when the original landing party beamed down to Gateway. . . . Mr. Spock located the Guardian with his tricorder—and his scanners, on the ship. Romulan technology, thank goodness, isn't as advanced scientifically as ours. Militarily, they're powerful, but they lack intellectual curiosity. And the time portal won't respond, unless they ask a question … I'll bet they're so busy searching for some kind of weapon, or spaceship, that they've ignored the ruins—including the time portal."

  Silence for a beat. Spock nodded, fingers steepled. "An extremely logical line of reasoning, Lieutenant. I'm inclined to agree, since your theory alone fits all the available facts." The Vulcan looked grave. "However, we cannot bank on their remaining unaware of the Guardian for long. Sooner or later, they will discover it. And when they do …"

  The Captain shook his head. "We must prevent that. Even if it means using the phasers aboard the Enterprise and the Lexington to wipe out the planet. We've got less than thirteen hours now, before the Romulan fleet arrives. Hopefully, our ships will be right on their tails, but we can't afford to chance it."

  The expressions around the table were eloquent. Kirk's eyes were bleak. "I know that the loss to the Universe would be great—the scientific and historical knowledge could never be regained. There's another danger, also. The Guardian may very well have its own defense systems. Any attempt to destroy it might cause it to blow the lot of us—Romulans and Humans—out of space. Even if it has no defenses of its own, its power source is so unthinkably great that its destruction might mean the end of this entire sector. Any way we look at it, the risks are great. And, if it's necessary to destroy the planet, I'll make that decision. That way, whatever the ramifications, I alone will be held responsible. I don't want to turn our phasers on the Guardian—but that may well be the only choice." He stood at the head of the table, then after a long second, straightened his shoulders. "Dismissed."

  Chapter XIII