Yesterday Son (13 page)

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
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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 throughput 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
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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
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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 resuscitator 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
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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.
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“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
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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,
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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.”

“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?”