Yesterday Son (5 page)

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
[37]
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
[38]
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
[39]
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
[40]
his arm from the Doctor’s grasp, he walked over to their supplies. Opening his kit, he began pulling on his therm-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.

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.
[41]
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.”

[42]
The Doctor turned to the Vulcan. “What about it, Spock? Deuces wild?”

His mouth quirked a bit at the comers, as the First Officer shook his head. “I, too, am fatigued, Doctor. Perhaps the sithar will join you for a game—if you ask it, politely.”

McCoy lay in the dark, listening to the wind over Kirk’s snores. It was a long time before he slept.

Kirk awakened in the morning to find Spock gone. He hastily pulled on his therm-suit and left the Doctor sleeping peacefully. As he opened the flap of the tent, he saw his First Officer standing a few meters away, and joined him as he stood surveying the landscape.

The storm had gone, and the air was cold and clear. Beta Niobe was rising, swollen and blood-colored, in a pale lavender sky that shaded to deep purple the undersides of the remaining storm clouds. They’d camped in a sheltered hollow at the base of a jagged cliff that rose on the right until it blocked the sky. Before them was a large, U-shaped valley, flanked by the cliffs. Snow lay in patches on top of short, mossy ground cover, pale aqua in color. The valley was dotted with many small, narrow lakes, the wind riffling their sapphire water. Far in the distance, at the end of his vision, Kirk could make out a herd of animals. He was aware that McCoy had joined him, and turned around at the sound of the Doctor’s startled gasp.

Behind and to their left, a frozen tidal wave loomed. From where Kirk stood it might have been a quarter of a kilometer away, a wall of turquoise ice studded with boulders. The glacier was at least three hundred meters high, and Kirk craned his neck trying to see where it ended.

“Damn,” McCoy commented, inadequately. “You ever see one of these things before, Jim?”

“I’ve skied on them, in Colorado, but I never saw
[44]
one this big in the Rockies. I wonder how big it is, how far it goes?”

Spock looked up from his tricorder. “The glacier is only a part of a larger ice sheet that extends northward as far as my tricorder range.”

“I guess the wind blows down off the ice sheet-how cold is it?” Kirk slipped his hand out of his glove, tested the air.

“The present temperature is—10° Celsius, but the wind chill makes it feel colder than that. The temperature during the middle of the day will probably rise to above freezing,” Spock replied.

“Actually, it’s not as cold as I thought an ice age would be,” McCoy commented. “Nothing like the last time we were here.”

“We are fortunate that we’ve arrived during the late spring, instead of winter this time, Doctor,” Spock said.

“This
is spring?” McCoy was taken aback.

“I think Dante wrote about this place,” mused Kirk. “Just knowing that damned sun is going to blow gives me the shivers. See the typical pattern of the corona? Looks like it could go any minute.”

“We know that Beta Niobe will not nova for 5,000 years, Captain. It is illogical to waste time speculating on impossibilities. I suggest we begin searching, keeping in touch by communicator.” Spock betrayed impatience, as he scanned the area again with his tricorder.

“Any life-form readings, Spock?” McCoy wanted to know.

“Several, Doctor, but I believe they belong to some of the higher animals. However, my reception is limited by the mountain ranges.”