Authors: A. C. Crispin
By this time Spock could see, watched as the Doctor, never ceasing his monologue, deftly bound Kirk’s rib cage in an elastic bandage that automatically adjusted for maximum support. By the time McCoy had finished, Kirk was conscious.
“Bones. ... Uhura ... I’m glad to see you. How’d you get here?” His hazel gaze turned to the Vulcan and narrowed in puzzlement. “Seems to me that there was an explosion—or was that just the one in my head? There were a lot of them. ...” He winced as he took a deep breath.
“No, Jim,” McCoy said. “That was Zar. We sent him off to create a diversion, and he blew both Romulan craft sky-high. He must’ve overloaded his phaser.
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“Is he all right?” Something in the Vulcan’s voice made the three of them turn to face him.
“We haven’t seen him, sir.” Uhura said. “I presume he got out of the blast area. Come on, we’d better get out of here—if you can walk, Captain.”
“I’m fine.” Kirk’s face belied his words as he stood, and he didn’t refuse the supporting arms offered him by the Doctor and his First Officer.
Once outside the camp, Uhura hailed the
Enterprise.
“Enterprise,
Scott here.”
Uhura handed the communicator to Kirk. “Scotty, this is the Captain. What’s your status?”
“Repairs are underway, sir, but in general, we were fortunate. No deaths, a few injuries, only one serious. McCoy can tell you better about them. Admiral Komack has been callin’ and he’s on the other channel right now. The cloakin’ device is gone, sir.” He paused, then continued, “Admiral Komack says he monitored an explosion down there.”
“Yes. Patch me in to him, Scotty.”
As Kirk talked to the Admiral, Spock, McCoy and Uhura turned to survey the remains of the Romulan camp. The blast had leveled several of the tents closest to the wrecked shuttles, and there was turmoil and disorder everywhere. As they watched, a party of Federation marines trotted through the center of the camp, heavy-duty phasers cradled at ready. In the distance they could hear the occasional whine of phasers set for maximum stun.
“Not
Enterprise
security.” McCoy observed.
“I would speculate that Admiral Komack dispatched them, as soon as the cloaking device was removed, Doctor,” Spock said, never turning from his constant scanning of the tumbled figures near the blast area. McCoy suddenly realized who the Vulcan was looking for, and in unspoken agreement, the two walked back into the camp. The only casualties however, wore Romulan uniforms. They picked their way among them, and McCoy occasionally dropped to
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check a prone figure, then summoned Federation medical personnel if the Romulan was still alive.
“Actually, they’re as lucky as we are,” the Doctor said, after they finished their grim check. “It could have been worse. That blast was nearly contained by the bulk of the two ships. It was set carefully—to destroy as few—”
“Bones, Spock!” They turned, to find Kirk picking his way toward them. “The Admiral reports that our forces are nearly in complete control. I’ve put Uhura in charge of supervising the prisoners.
Chu
Wong and his people are assisting the mop-up squad.”
“Good.” McCoy said decisively. “That means that Spock can stay here to look for Zar, and I can get you back to sickbay before you collapse. Admiral Komack’s got the situation in hand.”
“Not so fast, Bones. You’ve forgotten one thing. As long as this planet’s swarming with unauthorized personnel, we’ll need a constant watch on the Guardian. The three of us have been detailed to that until all Federation and Romulan forces have been transported off the surface. Come on.”
Despite Kirk’s protests that he was fine, the way back to the time portal was a slow one. Several times the Captain was forced to rest, ignoring McCoy’s protests that he should beam back to the
Enterprise
and leave the others to guard the time portal.
Finally, they sighted the monolithic form. As they moved haltingly toward it, McCoy narrowed his eyes, then touched Spock’
s
arm. The Vulcan had already seen the ashy dust purring up from the opposite side of the portal. A moment later, sounds of a scuffle reached them. Spock and McCoy broke into a run, and Kirk, teeth fastened in his lip, quickened his limping hobble.
The two officers rounded the temple wall and saw twin dark figures rolling in the dust, loud gasps punctuated by grunts of pain as they groped for each other’s throats. To McCoy’s surprise, both wore Romulan uniforms, and he wondered briefly what
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they were fighting over before his vision cleared and he recognized Zar’s features under streaks of blood and smeared dust.
Spock’s voice rang loud, cutting through the agonized sounds of the combat. “Tal, drop the weapon.
Now.”
At the sound of Spock’s voice, the thrashing intensified until the onlookers could barely see for the choking dust. The Doctor heard his own voice, tight with anxiety. “Spock, your phased Stun Tal!” From out of the melee on the ground, a hand—Tal’
s
hand, they could tell by the Romulan insignia—reached, groped, then closed on the Romulan sidearm that had been knocked to the side. Zar evidently saw the barrel of the weapon turning toward his head, and heaved wildly at the Romulan’
s
body. Spock hesitated, trying for a clear shot.
McCoy flung himself at the Vulcan’s weapon. “Stun
both
of them, for God’s sake! He’s going to kill Zar!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the younger man’s knee move, heard Tal’s grunt, then his fingers closed around the phaser and McCoy turned to fire.
Spock shoved the Doctor’s hand, spoiling his aim, just as they saw the flash of a blade in Zar’
s
hand. They heard the muffled impact as it connected with the back of Tal’s neck, and then the Romulan sagged, limp.
Zar let him sprawl in the dust as he pulled himself to a kneeling position, leaning heavily on a nearby boulder. The young man’s breathing was a ragged sob ... the only sound in the stillness.
McCoy moved to the Romulan and turned him over, then stared in surprise as his hands came away unstained. Kirk joined him, and both men looked up at Zar’
s
words to Spock—formal, almost ritualistic.
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“Just as I have shadowed thy life, thy shadow now lies over me.” Zar straightened, his mouth a grim slash. “I hit him with the butt ...
not
the blade.”
Tal gasped, moaned, and McCoy hastily took out a charge for his hypo, pressed it into the Commander’s shoulder. The Romulan sagged again. “That should hold him, Bones,” Kirk said. “We’ll take him with us when we beam up.”
“How did you find him, Zar?” asked the Doctor, standing up. “And where did you get the uniform?”
“I came back here to make sure nobody would tamper with the Guardian.” Zar replied. “Then I saw him, digging around the unit we installed. I was able to get close enough wearing the uniform to jump him. I ‘borrowed’ the uniform from one of the sentries before I planted my phaser to overload.”
“And to think we didn’t want you to come with us because Spock was worried you’d get hurt.” Kirk lowered himself gingerly onto a fallen column, shaking his head. “Tell me, have you ever considered joining Star Fleet? We could use someone with talents like yours.”
Zar started to say something, then bit his lip. As they watched, his expression changed, became shadowed, remote. “I’m afraid not, Captain.” He turned to McCoy. “Did you bring along that duffle bag from my quarters I mentioned?”
McCoy pointed. “Over there. What’s in it, anyhow?”
“Clothes.” Zar said shortly, stooping to pick up the bundle, then continuing out of sight behind a large boulder.
The Doctor looked puzzled, then glanced back at the time portal, quiescent, grimly lifeless. “Helluva lot of trouble over a big stone doughnut, wasn’t it, Jim?”
Kirk nodded, an echo of old sadness in his voice, “But still worth it, Bones. Always worth it.”
It was Spock who saw Zar return from changing
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his clothes, and the other officers turned at his indrawn breath.
The leather tunic was tight, now, and the rough breeches pulled taut around hard-muscled legs above the fur mukluks. Only the gray fur cloak, sweeping the ground, fit the same as it had seven weeks ago. Zar stooped, gathered up the hide bag that contained his few possessions from the past, and slung it across his back, fastened it with thongs. Then he faced them, head up, his expression calm but watchful.
Spock was the first of them to find his voice, and it was incongruously normal-sounding. “You are going back?”
“Yes.” The remoteness faded he met Spock’s eyes, watched his father get up, walk over to face him. “
I
have to.
We’ve all risked our lives to make sure history isn’t changed, and I have reason to believe it will be if I don’t return. I’m needed there ...” His mouth softened into what was almost a wry smile. “Needed there, as I’d never be here—despite the Captain’s kind remark. McCoy
was
right. Two of us
is
two too many. I don’t want to spend my life trying to stay out of your shadow. ... And I would. So I’m leaving. What better place to go than a planet where my skills, what I have to offer ... teach ... are needed desperately?” His voice softened. “After all, it’s my home.”
“What makes you think you’ll change history if you don’t return? Living in that arctic wilderness alone—” Spock half-protested.
“I’m not going to be alone. Instead of the Northern hemisphere of Sarpeidon, I’m going to the Southern one ... to the Lakreo Valley.” Zar watched recognition dawn in Spock’s eyes as he mentioned his destination.
“The Lakreo Valley 5,000 years ago?” Kirk frowned. “I ... what’s the significance of that?”
“Ask Mr. Sp—” Zar hesitated and his shoulders straightened even more. “Ask my father. I can tell he remembers.”
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“The Lakreo Valley ... the Sarpeidon equivalent of the Tigris-Euphrates civilization on Earth ... or the Khal at R’sev on Vulcan. A remarkable cultural awakening. Within a comparatively short span of time, the backward hunting and gathering tribesmen developed many of the basics of civilization. A spoken and written language—the zero—agriculture—” The Vulcan’s dry recitation paused, and Zar took up the list, eyes shining.
“Domestication of animals—smelting metal—architecture. More than that. All within a
very
short span of time. An unprecedented development in a people’s history. Such rapid growth logically indicates that they had help. I have strong evidence to indicate that help was me.”
“But Beta Niobe ...” McCoy began, and stopped. Zar nodded gravely.
“Oh, it will still blow up. But my people will have had 5,000 years of civilization that they might not otherwise have. Five thousand years is a respectable time span for anyone—especially when you think about the fact that the culture didn’t die. It’s all there, the important things, in the computer banks of the Federation, where we both saw them.” He took a deep breath. “I
know
this is what I must do—without me, there won’t be any cultural awakening. Or maybe a different one, and that would change history.”
Some of the tension in the air eased suddenly as Zar’s teeth flashed in a wry grin. “The entire notion sounds incredibly arrogant when I hear it out loud.”
McCoy cleared his throat gruffly. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You come by it honestly.” He watched a suggestion of that same smile soften the Vulcan’s hard mouth for a second at his words, and wasn’t sure he’d seen it until Spock nodded.
“I first realized the truth the other day, just before the landing party died. I was studying the tapes Spock had been looking at, plus some others I found in the library. Things started to add up.” He shrugged one shoulder in the old self-deprecating way. “Hadn’t
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any of you ever wondered
why my
mother spoke English?”
Zar started to turn away, toward the time portal. Spock’s voice stopped him. “Wait.” The Vulcan cleared his throat, and his words were soft, but perfectly distinct. “I have been ... planning. Thinking. Before you mentioned leaving, that is. I would like you to accompany me to Vulcan, to meet ... the Family. Are you sure you must go?”
Zar nodded without speaking.
Spock took a deep breath. “You must do what you have decided is right, then. But first ...” He moved toward the younger man, stretching out his hand, fingers reaching for his head. Zar stiffened, then relaxed visibly as the older man’s lean fingertips pressed lightly between the slanting brows so like the Vulcan’s own. The two stood, eyes closed, for long moments.
Kirk had never seen two telepaths mind-meld, and hadn’t realized that the tension-filled contact points of spread fingers weren’t necessary. This contact was quiet, undramatic, almost gentle. Finally Spock dropped his hand, and weariness seemed to settle over him like a cloak.
Zar’
s
eyes opened and he took a deep breath, blinking. “The meld ...” He was clearly shaken. “The truth ... is a great gift. ...”
“No one has a greater right to know.” Spock’s voice was deeper than usual, and the expression in his eyes mirrored the warmth in Zar’s.
The younger man turned away after a moment, moved to clasp hands with Kirk. “Captain, it would be better if they think I died—in the explosion, or the fight with Tal. Nobody has to know I used the time portal.” He looked over at the gigantic rocky oval. “I have a feeling that nobody will ever be allowed to use it again. We came too close to disaster this time.”