STAR TREK: TOS #11 - The Yesterday Saga I - Yesterday's Son

by A. C. Crispin

  “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, [127] 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 [128] 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 [129] 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 man-made, an installation 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 [130] 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

  Captain’s Log Stardate 7340.37

  “We remain on yellow alert, awaiting the arrival of the Romulan fleet, and Federation reinforcements. Within the next twelve hours, I must either protect the time portal against unauthorized use, or destroy Gateway. The only possible solution I can think of involves breaking General Order Nine, but at this point, I have little choice. Kirk out.”

  The Captain punched the “record” button and slumped into his chair, casting a wistful look at his bunk. Instead, he keyed for another cup of coffee, and opened a channel on the intercom.

  “Spock here.”

  “Have you spoken with Doctor McCoy about what happened in the transporter room when the landing party returned?”

  “No, Captain.”

  “Zar was there. Somehow he knew, without being told, what had happened on the surface—that the landing party had been wiped out. Have you seen him since?”

  “No.”

  “He was extremely shaken up by the whole thing. Apparently he was linked in some way to his friends, Cordova and Steinburg, and experienced their deaths. McCoy suggests precognition, or possibly clairvoyance. Any ideas?”

  [132] The Vulcan was slow in answering. “No, Captain. The qualities you have mentioned are not unknown among telephaths, but I have never had direct experience with either, except once ...”

  “I remembe
r. The Intrepid. As I recall, it was painful.”

  “Yes. You saw him in the transporter room?”

  “Yes. He said that the initial shock knocked him out, but by the time he saw us, he was mostly blaming himself because he hadn’t warned us in time to save them. Seems that he’d been feeling uneasy for a couple of hours before their deaths.”

  “Is he in sickbay now?”

  “No, that’s why I contacted you. I can’t locate him, and I want to ask him a few questions about this ability of his. Is it true that he can sense the presence of other life-forms by tuning in on their emotional output? He doesn’t have to be in physical contact?”

  “Yes, although the life-form must be reasonably high on the evolutionary scale. Lower life-forms, insects for example, experience little emotion that is translatable in sentient terms.”

  “That’s what I thought. Good. Order Mr. Scott to relieve you, and come down to my quarters. Bring Zar with you. Kirk out.”

  The Vulcan depressed the intercom switch with a slight frown, one that deepened when there was no response from Zar’s quad. He tried the gym, the library, the recreation areas. Nothing. Turning command over to the Chief Engineer, he headed for his own quarters, following what Kirk would have termed a hunch, and Spock thought of as logical deduction. ...

  The door opened, the familiarity of his cabin, bunk, chair, microreader, tapes, everything normal. ... His eyes stopped their scan, focused on a still form lying on the floor of the alcove, half-hidden by the crimson drapery. ...

  For a split second he stood poised, unable to make [133] himself move, then his body took over, walking him without volition to that black-clad shape. As he bent down, fingers curved to grasp the shoulder gently, Zar stirred, grunted and woke.

  The Vulcan’s voice was harsh with relief. “What are you doing here?”

  The younger man was obviously embarrassed. “I couldn’t stay in the quad. It was so ... empty. So I came here to return the tape on my planet’s history, and I decided to view that tape on Vulcan art-forms. After a while I was tired. I didn’t expect you back. Aren’t you on duty?”

  “Yes. Why didn’t you use the bunk?”

  The gray eyes widened. “It’s your bunk, not mine. Besides, I can sleep anywhere.”

  One eyebrow flicked upward. “Obviously. Get up. The Captain wants to see you. Come on.”

  “Me?”

  “Actually, both of us. I don’t know why.”

  Kirk was starting on his second cup of black coffee, rubbing eyes that felt sand-blasted from fatigue, when the door signal flashed. “Come.” he called, and waved his visitors to seats. “Sit down, please. I have a few questions, and a proposition for you.” He sat back on his bunk, cradling his coffee, while two sets of eyes, one inquisitive, one reserved, regarded him steadily.

  “Zar, can you tell if a sentient life-form is near you, without seeing it?”

  The younger man nodded. “I can with every life-form I’ve encountered.”

  “Can you block your mind the way Spock can? For instance, screen out pain and prevent your mind from being read by drugs, and so forth?”

  “I can block myself so that no telepath can read me against my will. Those other things ... I don’t know.”

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “He has a natural mind-shield of a high order. The pain block and resistance to drugs is a technique requiring a great deal of study [134] and discipline, as well as physiological controls he doesn’t possess. Possibly, with a more qualified instructor, he could develop them. I’m not prepared to postulate.”

  “But his mind can’t be read against his will by mind-melding?” Kirk leaned forward.

  “No more than mine can.” The Vulcan looked uneasy as he answered.

  “What do we know about Romulan telepathic abilities?”

  “Almost nothing, Captain. They exist, but in what degree it is impossible to speculate.” Spock’s eyes narrowed. “Captain, there is only one logical reason for your asking these questions ... the answer is ‘no.’ ”

  Kirk frowned. “I didn’t ask you, did I?”

  Zar looked at the two officers, puzzled. “What are you talking about? Captain, what was your proposition?”

  “Has Spock told you about the cloaking device the Romulans have set up around the Guardian’s location?”

  “No, he hasn’t told„me anything. Obviously, the Romulans haven’t utilized the time portal, at least in a manner that’s discernible to us ... however, that raises an interesting question. Would we actually be aware of it, if history did change around us? It’s possible we would simply adjust to the changes in the fabric of existence around us unknowingly ... I wonder what equations for such a problem would look like

  Spock looked interested. “A fascinating concept. Hypothetically, if the—”

  The Captain raised his hand. “I hate to interrupt, but while you two sit there and discuss the logic involved, the time-continuum may change. Zar, the situation is this ...” Kirk continued, outlining the problem, and concluded, “... so we have to penetrate this cloaking device, and somehow protect the time portal before the Romulans discover it. To do [135] this, we must get inside the perimeter of the screen.”

  The younger man looked thoughtful. “You want me to get inside this cloaking device, because I can sense the presence of the Romulans, without seeing them ... is that correct?”

  “Can you do it?”

  The gray eyes began to shine. “I’ll try, sir. Once I get inside without getting caught, what will I do to the time portal?”

  “That’s where Spock comes in. He’s figured out a way to rig a force field around the Guardian that will prevent the Romulans from going through, even if they do discover it. By the time they could break through the shield, we should have reinforcements here.”

  “Yes, sir.” Zar stood up. “When do we go?”

  “ ‘We’ are not going.” The Vulcan was also on his feet, and the flat statement rang like a challenge. “At least you’re not. I am perfectly capable of installing that force field alone. Captain—” without turning his head, “surely you are aware that you are violating General Order Nine in requesting civilian assistance in this matter?”

  “I’m doing the only thing I can to protect the Guardian short of destroying the entire planet. I’m willing to break General Order Nine to accomplish that.”

  “It’s not your decision to make, Captain.” Spock’s eyes turned to Kirk’s, and the expression in them made the Captain blink, before his own gaze hardened. The Vulcan’s voice was harsh. “Zar, return to your quarters.”

  “No, sir.” Something about the cold, quiet tone made both officers look at him. “You’re right, it’s not his decision to make—it’s mine. I’m going.”

  “No.” The Vulcan shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I cannot allow it. I will go alone.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I will go alone, if necessary. The Captain can get someone to set up the force field, but you can’t find anyone else that [136] can get you through that screen, and warn you of enemies once you’re inside. It would be better if I went alone, as a matter of fact. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you slowing me down.”

  “That’s enough of that.” Kirk snapped. “You both go, or nobody goes, and I begin the destruction.” Spock turned to look at him, and the Vulcan’s eyes made the Captain clench his fists. “Spock, I know what you’re thinking. But I have no choice. I’d sacrifice any person on this ship, starting with myself, to keep the Romulans from getting a chance at the time portal. It’s my duty, and nobody, not even you, can interfere with that.” He looked at Zar, and continued. “I’m sending Zar, because he’s willing to go, and he has this unique ... perception, whatever you call it, and therefore has the best chance of getting in, and getting back out, alive. And I’m asking you to go too, because you can protect him better than anyone else. If you prefer, I’ll send Zar and somebody else. Think it over. We haven’t much time.”

  Spock turned back to Zar,
who was standing quietly, hands at his sides, open challenge in his eyes. The First Officer snapped out a sentence in a language Kirk assumed was Vulcan. The younger man’s chin came up, and he answered with an equally sharp manner in the same language. Spock’s mouth tightened, then he nodded, slowly, reluctantly.

  Without another word, the young man left the room. The Captain turned to his First Officer. “Well, who won?”

  “He’s gone to get ready.” Spock didn’t meet his eyes. Kirk knew that the Vulcan was as angry as he’d ever seen him—at both of them.

  “I wish there were some other way, Spock.” The Captain sighed. “Well, at least it won’t take long. In an hour—two at the outside—you’ll be back aboard, and the Guardian will be safe.” He paused. “It took courage to stand up to you the way he did.”

  “It was total disrespect.”

  [137] “I don’t think he meant it that way ...” Kirk remembered the look on Spock’s face when Zar had announced that he’d only slow him down. “He’s cocky, though ... I was like that, myself, at one time.” He grinned reminiscently. “My old man had hell to pay trying to discipline me—nothing worked. Did your father ever have the same problem?”

  The Vulcan raised an astonished eyebrow, saw Kirk’s knowing grin and gave in. “Vulcan methods worked on me ... usually.”

  “Well, if you want, when this is over, I’ll order up a security squad, and we can take turns walloping him.”

  The Captain was waiting when the two volunteers, clad alike in dark, insulated coveralls, entered the transporter room. Watching them as they moved to strap on phasers and communicators, he was struck again by the similarities—and the differences. Both moved easily, gracefully, but Spock’s grace was economical, precise, while Zar’s was ... feline? Kirk rejected the word, but could find no better one.

  When they stood on the transporter pads, Spock holding the portable force-field unit, the Captain flicked switches, was rewarded by an answering hum. “Remember, you’ve got twelve hours to set up that unit and get back to the landing coordinates, before Bob and I start taking that planet apart. If you’re still on it ...”