Yesterday's Son Read online

  "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 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 door 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 turbolift 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."

  "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.

  Chapter IV

  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.

  "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 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. Fortuna
tely, 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 …"

  Or one person dies or doesn't die … Kirk supplemented mentally. He nodded, and said, "We fully understand the danger, Doctor Vargas. Have you headed this expedition ever since the Enterprise discovered the Guardian?"

  "Yes. It's been four years now. We are a quasi-permanent expedition here. The Federation cannot take any chances of a security leak, for obvious reasons. Anyone wishing to leave must undergo memory suppression and hypno-conditioning."

  "Frankly, I'm surprised more protection isn't apparent, ma'am." McCoy observed, glancing around as though he half-expected armed guards stationed in the kitchen.

  Vargas chuckled, her blue eyes following the Medical Officer's gaze. "No, Doctor McCoy, you won't find artillery or explosives in the cupboards! Still, we're protected here. A Federation starship is assigned a monthly tour of duty to patrol this system. This month it's the Exeter. Next month it will be the Potemkin. Of course they don't know what it is they're protecting—they think they're nursemaiding a valuable archeological discovery—which is the truth, after all. But I'll wager you're the only starship Captain in the fleet that knows the real properties of the Guardian, Captain Kirk. So, I think we're safe here."

  "Let's hope so." Kirk finished the contents of his cup. "Thank you for the coffee. I'd forgotten how good the real stuff tastes."

  "They give us the best here. When are you going to attempt the time portal?"

  "Immediately." Spock's voice was abrupt, and he got up from the table and left the room.

  Vargas looked startled, and Kirk said, "He's impatient to get started. He didn't tell you that this relative of his is a child—we can only hope that he's still alive."

  Vargas' gaze softened. "I understand better, now. I have a daughter, Anna. I talk to her on the subspace radio sometimes. . . ."

  She led the way to the Guardian. It stood amid the ruins, resembling nothing so much as a large, irregularly hewn stone doughnut. The primitive shaping gave no hint of the strange power it possessed.

  As they approached, it was dull gray, the color of the ruins, and its central hole was clear, allowing them to see the ruined shape of the temple McCoy had pointed out earlier.

  Spock was there ahead of them, their kits at his feet, tricorder in hand. The Vulcan had spent weeks here, shortly after the Guardian's discovery, along with two other scientists—top minds in the Federation—studying the time portal. At the end of their stay, they were still at a loss to say how the Guardian worked; how it channeled its energy into time currents, or where that energy came from. They were unable even to agree on whether the entity was a computer of incredible complexity, or whether it was a life-form. As he stood before it now, Kirk thought privately that man simply wasn't capable of comprehending the nature of the Guardian—yet.

  But man could make use of what he did not understand. Spock walked forward, tricorder ready. "Greetings." The Vulcan's voice, usually so matter-of-fact, held awe, and he saluted the stone shape in the manner of his people. "I am Spock, and have traveled with you once before. Can you show me the history of the planet Sarpeidon, that formerly circled the star Beta Niobe?"

  It always took a question to evoke a response from the Guardian, and now the stone shape flickered, lighting translucently from within. A deep, strangely warm voice rang out. "I can show you Sarpeidon's past. It has no future. Behold."

  The middle of the time portal was filled with vapor, then swirling images, too fast for the eye to catch and remember. Suggestions of volcanoes, mammoth reptile-like animals, mud villages, stone cities, seas, boats, armies, steel and glass cities, and finally, a blinding light that made all of them shield their eyes. During the entire presentation, which lasted perhaps a minute and a half, Spock's tricorder whirred at double-speed.

  The central viewport was clear again, and Kirk joined the First Officer who was bent over the tricorder. "Get it all, Spock?"

  "Yes." The Vulcan's voice was hollow. "I believe I've managed to isolate the correct period during the planet's last ice age. The neutron dating system used on the paintings is, fortunately, quite accurate. Our problem is not when to jump, but where we shall end up on Sarpeidon's surface. We cannot search the entire planet."

  "I hadn't thought of that." Kirk glanced at the now-quiescent Guardian. "That's a real problem."

  "I have in mind a possible solution. The power of the time portal is vast. The Guardian can probably set us down in the correct location—if I can communicate our desire to it. I shall attempt it." The Vulcan made a final adjustment to his tricorder, and turned back to face the rough-hewn form. His voice was low, tense.

  "Guardian. Can you differentiate between one life-form and another? For instance, can you discern that I am of a different species than my companions?"

  "You are of a different species within yourself." The Guardian intoned. Spock, accustomed to the entity's circumlocutions, nodded, apparently satisfied that the answer was an affirmative one.

  "Very well. There is a life-form located in Sarpeidon's last ice age that is of the same species as I. We are of one blood and kin. I wish to locate this life-form. Is it possible for us to be delivered to this location when we go through the portal?"

  Short silence. Then the voice boomed out again, seemingly from the air around them. "All things are possible."

  Spock's face, in the light reflected from the Guardian, looked drawn, fleshless. The Vulcan persisted, hands clenched into fists, "Does that mean you will be able to place us in the same location as this life-form when we jump into time?"

  The silence dragged on, broken only by the droning of that desolate wind. Spock stood rigidly motionless, seemingly willing an answer from the air around him. On impulse, McCoy stepped over to him, laid a hand on the First Officer's arm. The Doctor's voice was gentle. "Take it easy, Spock. Something tells me it'll be all right." The Vulcan glanced at him, no recognition in his eyes. Freeing his arm from the Doctor's grasp, he walked over to their supplies. Opening his kit, he began pulling on his them-suit, a one-piece garment with attached face shield.

  The Captain walked over and joined McCoy. "There's the answer, Bones. He's going, no matter what. Let's get ready."

  When they were prepared for the jump, Spock made final adjustments to his tricorder, then spoke again to the time entity. "Guardian. Please show us Sarpeidon's past again, so we can locate and rescue the life-form that is similar to me."

  Even the wind seemed to quiet for a moment as the scenario began to flicker in front of their eyes again. They stood, muscles twitching in anticipation, poised. From behind them somewhere came Vargas' voice. "Good luck—I envy you!"

  "Be ready. Soon." Spock's eyes never left the tricorder. "One, two, three—now!" They all took a giant step, straight into the whirling vortex.

  A star-flecked blackness, massive disorientation, giddiness. They staggered forward, blinking, then the cold air hit them, making their eyes water in the vicious wind. The entire world seemed to be white, gray and black, but the wind made it hard to tell. McCoy dug at his eyes, breath puffing in a steaming gasp, and swore.

  "We would land at night." Kirk growled, fumbling for his face shield. "Put your mask up, Bones. You all right Spock?"

  "Perfectly, Captain. I suggest we not attempt to move around in this wind. We seem to be on a level spot here, and fairly sheltered. There's a cliff to our right … if we can reach the lee of that …" The three stumbled a few meters to the right, and the wind died slightly. Fumbling, they set up the small therm-tent they'd brought.

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bsp; Inside the comparative warmth and light of the tent, they relaxed, looking at each other. McCoy's sense of humor reasserted itself as he observed his friends. They looked like large insects, he thought, with their faceted eye coverings and shiny scaled insulators covering their mouths and noses. "Looks like Halloween in here," the Doctor chuckled, pulling his face shield off. He wagged a finger accusingly at the Vulcan as the First Officer brushed snow out of his hair. "I'll tell you something, Spock. You sure have a talent for picking nice places to spend our first leave in way over a year." McCoy shook his head at Kirk, who was grinning, and continued, "Beautiful warm sunlight, gorgeous countryside. The women are welcoming, the natives are friend—" The Medical Officer broke off abruptly as something roared outside. Something very large, by the sound of it.

  They sat in silence, as the roar came again, dying away into a bubbling wail, and then there was only the sound of the wind, and the swish of the snow against the tent. McCoy swallowed.

  "What was that?" he asked, very quietly.

  "Probably a sithar, Bones." Kirk supplied, helpfully. "Very large predator. Looks like a cross between a musk ox and a lion. You remember, there was one painted on the wall. Scientists estimated them to be about the size of an Earth buffalo."

  "Carnivorous?" McCoy asked, still in that quiet tone. Spock raised an eyebrow and glanced at Kirk, whose smile broadened.

  "Sure." Kirk replied. "Their favorite meal is Chief Surgeons who don't have the sense to listen to their Commanding Officers."

  McCoy glared at him, then grinned sheepishly. "Guess I did kind of crash the party. But, dammit, you may need me!" He paused, then said, "Well, what'll we do for the rest of the night? Sit around and listen to that thing howl for its supper? Or—" he dug in his suit's pockets, "we could have a friendly little game. I brought my cards …"

  Kirk shoved him with his boot. "I'd rather be eaten by a sithar than lose my shirt to you again. I'm turning in."

  The Doctor turned to the Vulcan. "What about it, Spock? Deuces wild?"