Authors: A. C. Crispin
CLOSES IN …
ZAR!
Spock felt an irrational impulse—to comfort his son. He reached out a hand, shook his shoulder gently. “Stop it, Zar.”
Zar gasped, then ignored him. “I’m scared. I hate them. I’m going to die. ... Die. ...” His body stiffened, then the clenched hands loosened, and he tumbled over. ...
Shocked, Spock stared at him. He went to the limp figure. He pulled his son’s head into his lap, felt his throat—a flutter, very slight. ... His fingers went to the temples. ... Probing, reaching, calling desperately the name, over and over. ... Zar! Zar! Finally. ... Zar!
PUBLISHED BY POCKET BOOKS NEW YORK
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Another
Original
publication of POCKET BOOKS
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10020
Copyright © 1983 by Paramount Pictures Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
This Book is Published by Pocket Books, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc., Under Exclusive License from Paramount Pictures Corporation, The Trademark Owner.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10020
ISBN: 0-671-60550-X
First Pocket Books printing August, 1983
10 9 8 7 6 5
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
STAR TREK is a Trademark of Paramount Pictures Corporation Registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
Printed in the U.S.A.
Dedicated to my two wonderful grandmothers,
with thanks for a lifetime of love and kindness;
and to my own son, Jason Paul Crispin
I’ve always wanted to look at the acknowledgments page of a book someday and read: “I did it
all
myself! “But I couldn’t say that here, because I owe many people thanks for their help in completing and marketing
Yesterday’s Son.
For their help in writing, editing, and proofing, my thanks to:
Debby Marshall, the best friend a writer ever had ...
O’Malley, the Red Queen, (“Who
cares,
Ann?
Nobody
cares about a dumb detail like that; it doesn’t advance the
story.
Out! Off with its head!”), who is a terrific editor—but don’t ask her to spell ...
Hope and George Tickell, my mother and father, who proofed and photocopied ...
Faith E. Treadwell, my sister, who read and commented ...
Jamie and Norman
Jette,
for the lesson in physics ...
Sam R. Covington, for teaching me the value of research ...
Robert B. and I. Lois Pleas, for well-considered comments on a stranger’s work ...
Beverly Volker, a fine editor, and a good person to Contact ...
Randy L. Crispin, my husband, for giving me a reason to write ...
Delma Frankel, that “deadeye” proofreader who turned out to be full of surprises ...
And, for moral support and encouragement during the long years of uncertainty:
Andre Norton, who has enchanted so many people with uncountable wonders ...
Jacqueline Lichtenberg, not only a good writer, but also a kind and gracious person who goes out of her way to help others get a start ...
Anne Moroz, who finally found a safe place ...
Teresa L. Bigbee, who puts up with writers and their attendant insanity with good grace, a sense of humor, and many helpful comments and suggestions ...
Mary M. Schmidt, and Lynxie, of course ...
Howard Weinstein, amateur psychotherapist, but truly pro writer ...
John McCall, professional fiction consultant, and a good one ...
And, finally, a special acknowledgment to Shoshana (Susie) Hathaway, for giving me the idea, a long time ago, in a newly rediscovered Universe ...
In the Author’s Notes to my own STAR TREK novel,
The Covenant of the Crown,
I mentioned that I’ve made quite a few friends through STAR TREK, many of whom also want to be writers.
Ann Crispin is one of those friends, and
Yesterday’s Son,
her first book, is a monument to patience.
I met Ann at the 1979 August Party Convention near Washington, D.C., where I’d unveiled the just-completed
Covenant
by reading chapters to audiences. Ann was
verrrry
pregnant at the time, and I think we bumped into each other (figuratively ... or
was
it literally?) in the typically crowded, incredibly slow convention elevator.
I really don’t recall exactly what we talked about—that’s no reflection on Ann, just the fact that much of my time at conventions is spent talking about writing. Many fans are excellent writers, trying to build up the nerve to submit their work professionally.
I’m not a parent, but I’d imagine that sending out your first would-be pro story is even worse than sending your child to the first day of kindergarten. After all, most kids survive their first day of school—very few get mailed back with rejection slips. But most first stories
do
meet that ignominious fate.