Star Trek - TOS - Time For Yesterday Ann Crispin

Without warning, a tiny measure of additional strength entered the<br >meld-only a thread, but it was enough to tip the balance. Zar felt, rather than saw, the Originators drawn into the very heart of that<br >whirling, writhing nothingness-and then they were gone.

The Guardian released his mind, and he withdrew, dissolving the meld. He<br >could hear the time-entity speaking aloud

”They have joined the others now, so many continua away that they will<br >never find their way back. Please accept my gratitude, Admiral Kirk, Dr. McCoy, Mr. Spock …<br >

and especially Zar, who helped me realize where my duty lay. I assure<br >you that from now on I will fulfill my responsibilities to this universe to the best of my ability. Again, I thank you.”<br >

Chapter Thirteen<br >

AS THE ECHOES of the Guardian’s voice died away, Zar opened his eyes to<br >find himself slumped against the time portal. Spock, Kirk, and McCoy crouched beside him, their faces filthy and scraped from wind-blown<br >pebbles and grit.

The fabric of Kirk’s cloak and jerkin was ripped, baring his arm and<br >shoulder. Spock’s sleeve was charred and torn, and there was a slash along his right cheekbone; a green trickle slowly welled and dripped.<br >McCoy had torn both knees out of his breeches.

”You all right?” McCoy asked, his question for all of them.<br >

They all nodded.<br >

”You joined the meld,” Zar said to McCoy. He shook his head, still<br >dazed. “You and Jim. You were the ones who supplied that last bit of mental energy, weren’t you?”<br >

”Don’t pin any medals on me,” McCoy growled. “I was frozen with terror.<br >If it hadn’t been for Jim hauling me over to join you, I’d still be standing there.”<br >

”Bull,” Kirk said. “I was the one who was immobile, when Bones shook me<br >so hard my teeth rattled, and yelled. “Don’t just stand there, we’ve got to help! Grab Spock’s hand!”<br >

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy climbed slowly to their feet. All three were<br >stumbling with exhaustion.

Zar hesitated, wondering if he could stand. His left leg was doubled<br >beneath him, and felt like one massive cramp.

Spock reached down a hand without comment, and his son grasped it, then<br >painfully pulled himself up, swaying slightly as he waited for the pins-and-needies of returning circulation to cease.<br >

Kirk was speaking with the Enterprise, reassuring a worried Commander<br >Scott. “It’s really over this time, Scotty,” he concluded. “And the Guardian is back to normal.”<br >

”Thank heaven, Sir! Will that be four t’ beam up?”<br >

”Yes. Ener— Kirk broke off at Zar’s emphatic headshake. “Stand by,<br >Scotty.” He flipped the communicator shut. “You’re coming back with us, Zar.”<br >

”No, I have to return to New Araen,” the Sovren said, then glanced<br >sideways at McCoy. “All I need is that hypo, Doc.”

”You’ll have to come to sickbay,” McCoy said. At Zar’s wary expression,<br >he snarled, “Okay! I’ve accepted the fact that you won’t stay, damn your stubborn hide! I just want to take a look at that leg and see if I<br >can’t help you. The Guardian is working normally again, it’ll send you back a moment after you left, whether you leave now or a year from now!”<br >

Zar shook his head, wondering why he fielt so lighthearted.<br >

”I appreciate it, Leonard, but-“<br >

McCoy’s temper snapped. “Shut up! You can’t go back like this, you<br >idiot, you can barely stay on your feet! You’re in no shape to march off to a battle!” His hand darted up to the younger man’s temple,<br >carefully pushing back the hair.

”Superficial,” he grunted, after a glance, “but it still needs closing.”<br >His fingers came away slick with greenish blood.

Zar stared at them in surprise, then realized the side of his jaw did<br >feel cold and sticky. Perhaps that was why he was so dizzy …

”Didn’t even feel it, did you?” the doctor asked. “You’re out on your<br >feet, Zar. Now, you’re coming back to the Enterprise and let me patch you up-even if Spock has to nerve-pinch you and carry you. Right,<br >Spock?”

The Vulcan nodded. “Extraordinary as it may sound, the good doctor and<br >I are in full agreement.” A faint curve touched the stern mouth. ”However, I would prefer not to have to carry you, son. I am not in the<br >best of shape myself.”

Zar managed a weak smile. “All right, you win. Who am I to ruin an<br >historic occasion?”

Kirk, grinning, reactivated the communicator. “Mr. Scott?” he said,<br >then paused as Zar extended a hand.

”May I?”<br >

Puzzled, the admiral handed the little instrument over.<br >

”I’ve always wanted to do this,” Zar confided, sollo voce.<br >

Then he spoke into the communicator. “Mr. Scott, this is Zar.”<br >

”Well, hello, laddie. It’s good to hear your voice! Are you coming up<br >t’ see us?”

”They twisted my arm,” Zar said, and grinned. “So please beam us up,<br >Scotty.”

When the soft chime of the intercom roused Zar the following morning,<br >all he wanted to do was burrow back under the covers (I’dforgootten how comfortable these lowgee mattresses are … ) and drift back to sleep.<br >I’m so tired … Instead he sat up and rubbed his eyes gingerly.

They ached.<br >

The ache flowed, spreading over him like sweat under armor, dull and<br >unfocused. Goddess, so tired …

The intercom sounded again. Za r swore and swung his legs out of the<br >bed.

It took him a moment to recall how to activate the intercom. “Yes?” he<br >grunted, not using the visual circuit.

”Sorry to wake you, Zar,” came McCoy’s voice, “but we ought to get<br >started on those tests. When can you get down here?”

”Uh …” he said, trying to consider, his mind fogged like the<br >cloud-shrouded summit of Big Snowy. “Can I have breakfast? And coffee? I haven’t had coffee in twenty years.”<br >

”I’ll put in the order. Cream and sugar?”<br >

”Black.”<br >

Zar sank down on the edge of the bunk, glancing around the luxurious<br >senior officer’s cabin. His leather breeches and woven shirt were still piled on the chair, but on the bureau was a plain black jumpsuit that<br >had not been there. Spock, Zar realized. Nobody else could have come in without waking me. He dimly remembered Kirk telling him last night<br >that he’d been assigned quarters next door to the Vulcan.

He stretched, every muscle in his body protesting, then padded naked<br >into the head. He spent a few minutes renewing his acquaintance with the controls. Sonic or water?<br >

he wondered, and, in the end, took both.<br >

Back in paradise … he thought, leaning against the softly<br >gleaming wall, while the hot water pelted him. Id forgotten how clean it is … everything smells so good.<br >

Memories of standing barefoot on a stone floor, breaking the ice skim on<br >a basin of water so he could bathe, and of outdoor privies in midsummer, assailed him. He glanced longingly over at the Jacuzzi and promised<br >himself a long soak.

But Id trade it all to see Wynn … Zar probed the void in his mind,<br >delicately, the way a tongue is irresistibly drawn to a missing tooth. In this time and place she was dead, and while he was here, part of him<br >was dead, too.

In sickbay, he grimly endured McCoy’s seemingly endless tests. When the<br >doctor finally released him, Kirk announced that he was ready to take their visitor on a tour of the Enterprise.<br >

Their first stop was, of course, the bridge. Zar glanced around in<br >wonderment. “You weren’t kidding when you warned me that things have changed, Jim,” he said.<br >

”The entire ship was overhauled and rebuilt several years ago,” Kirk<br >said. “it does look a lot different.”

”New viewscreens, new uniforms, different control stations …” Zar<br >turned around to look at the twin sets of turbolift doors. “Even the doors are different.”<br >

”The new design is much more efficient,” Spock said, glancing up from<br >the science station, where he was conferring with Lieutenant-Commanders Maybri and Naraht.<br >

(Zar still couldn’t get over the presence of a living, thinking<br >rock-especially one with a sense of humor!)

”Aye, that it is,” Scotty said. “Wait’ll you see m’engine room, lad.<br >Two stories high, with an elevator in the middle of it.”

”It all looks incredibly streamlined,” Zar said, “but you know, I miss<br >those red doors.”

Kirk grinned wryly. “So do I, now that you mention it.<br >

But progress is a necessary evil, I suppose.” He gestured at Scotty.<br >”I’ll see you later tonight, at dinner. I’m hosting a party for you and the senior officers, Zar. But right now, Mr. Scott is dying to show you<br >his engine room.”

”I propose a toast,” Dr. McCoy announced, raising his glass. “To the<br >Guardian of Forever. If it hadn’t been for it siding with us against its creators, we wouldn’t be here tonight.”<br >

The rest of the assembled company nodded gravely and drank. Zar sipped<br >the fruit juice Spock had suggested he try-though its orange color had given him pause. It was good, just tart enough to be pleasing.<br >

Thank YOU for the acknowledgment, a familiar voice echoed inside his<br >mind. I appreciate it very much.

Zar hastily swallowed the mouthful of orange juice before he choked on<br >it. Guardian? he asked silently. But we are in orbit, hundreds of kilometers away… how can you reach me?<br >

I have many abilities, the time-entity told him, ambiguously. But I can<br >cease contact, if you would prefer.

That’s all right. I enjoy conversing with you.<br >

You do? A wash of genuine pleasure colored the ancient creation’s<br >thought-pattern. Then I wonder …

Yes?<br >

Would you consent to ‘talk’ with me sometimes? There are innumerable<br >worlds and times that I can scan for diversion and learning, but I discovered yesterday that communication with another sentient being is<br >also valuable. My search for my creators made me reafte-or, perhaps, remember-that I have been lonely for a very long time.<br >

Zar thought about what it might be like to exist in isolation for<br >millennia and felt a rush of empathy for the time portal. I would be pleased to ‘talk’with you, he told the Guardian, but I don’t believe you<br >will be able to reach mefor long. Soon I will be returning to my home in the past.<br >

I will be able to reach you, came the confident reply. And I am<br >grateful for your compassion.

As suddenly as it had come, the contact was withdrawn.<br >

Zar came back to himself to realize that Uhura ‘ who was sitting beside<br >him, had just repeated his name. He blinked.

”I beg your pardon, but I didn’t catch what you were saying.”<br >

She smiled. “I’m not surprised. You were parsecs away.”<br >

”No, only about 400 kilometers.”<br >

She looked startled. “Beg pardon?”<br >

Zar shook his head and smiled ruefully at her. “I am sorry, Nyota. I<br >had a lot on my mind, but that is no excuse for boorish behavior. Forgive me, please.”<br >

She chuckled, a rich, throaty sound. “I was saying that you’ve<br >changed,” she said. “I remember when we first met … you were such a quiet, sweet boy. So earnest …<br >

and so naive.”<br >

”Don’t remind me.” Zar shook his head reminiscently. “I got tongue-tied<br >every time I looked at you. It took me a whole week to even manage an intelligible response when you said hello to me.”<br >

”Will you he staying, this time?”<br >

He shook his head, half-regretfully. “I can’t, I’m afraid.”<br >

She gave him a quick, knowing glance. “Someone’s waiting for you.”<br >

He nodded. “My wife, Wynn.”<br >

”And you miss her.”<br >

The remark was a statement, not a question, but Zar answered it anyway.<br >”More than I thought possible.”

Later, they adjourned to the chairs and couches on the other side of the<br >officers’ lounge, and talked. Zar was deep in a conversation with Sulu about fencing lunges and parries, when he noticed Uhura’s expression as<br >she spoke with his father beside the doorway. He concentrated, and picked up her anxiety, her distress … she was terribly concerned<br >about something.

As he watched, she turned away from the departing Spock, then, picking<br >up the skirt of the flowing white gown she wore, hurried toward the door.<br >

”Will you please excuse me, Hikaru?” Zar said, hastily. “I must see<br >Nyota before she goes.”

The helmsman nodded. “Sure. Meet me in the gym tomorrow about 0900,<br >and I’ll demonstrate that lunge I was speaking of.”

”I’ll be there,”<br >

Uhura moved quickly down the hall, wondering whether she ought to change<br >out of her long dress and evening slippers before going down to sickbay. ”Dam shoes,” she muttered, and stopped to pull off the opalescent<br >sandals.

”Nyota!”<br >

She turned to see Zar limping after her, concern in his gray eyes.<br >”What’s wrong? I sense that you’re very upset.”

”It’s D’berahan,” Uhura admitted. “I was just talking with Spock, and<br >he told me that the three babies’ telepathic capabilities are becoming arrested. He thinks it’s because their mother is not communicating with<br >them. This could end up making them outcasts among their own people.”

”What are you going to do?”<br >

”The only thing I can … spend more time with them, letting them<br >pick up my thoughts. I’m just afraid that won’t be enough.” She signaled the I i ft. “Want to come with me to see them?”<br >

”All right.”<br >

”It’s so tragic,” she said, as they stepped into the turbolift. “I’ve<br >been trying to provide a sort of mental ‘anchor’ for the children, but they really need their mother.”<br >

They entered sickbay, moving quietly through the hushed quiet and the<br >shadows cast by the nighttime fighting.

D’berahan lay curled in a different position than Uhura had last seen<br >her, but she knew by now that the nurses regularly shifted her limbs and turned the little alien, so this was not unusual. The communications<br >officer smiled as the three infants wriggled out of their mother’s pouch in response to her presence. “Hi, kids,” she whispered.<br >

The small faces, with their enormous eyes, blinked solemnly up at her.<br >”Can you sense their thoughts?” she asked Zar.

”At this stage, they’re really too young to have coherent thoughts, but<br >I can pick up their emotions … their appreciation of warmth, and full stomachs, and companionship.”<br >

Uhura bent over the enclosure and gently stroked the tiny domed heads,<br >humming softly. “What about D’berahan?”

”She’s a complete blank.”<br >

”If only someone could help her,” she said, smoothing the unconscious<br >alien’s fur. She glanced up at her companion as a sudden thought struck her. “Could you help her, Zar? Spock told me your esper abilities are<br >much stronger than his.”

He hesitated, and Uhura immediately regretted her impulsive question. He<br >looks so exhausted, she thought, studying the lines of fatigue in his face, the tightly held mouth and dark-shadowed eyes. “I’m sorry,” she<br >said. “I shouldn’t have asked that. I know mindmelding is supposed to be very difficult … an intensely personal invasion. Especially with<br >a complete stranger.”

Zar glanced over at the little alien and her babies, and his eyes<br >softened. “I’d like to help her …” he said, slowly.

”Do you think you could?”<br >

”I don’t know. Probing a non-humanoid stranger’s mind could prove risky<br >… for both of us.”

Nyota watched D’berahan’s chest rise almost imperceptibly as she<br >breathed. “What if you had a gu ide? Somebody who had been in mental contact with her before?”<br >

”That would help considerably. I could let the other handle the<br >deepest, most personal part of the meld. Is there another Marishal on board?”<br >

”No …” Uhura said, straightening up and going over to the<br >intercom. “But if you’re sure You’d be willing to try, I think I know the next best thing.”;<br >

He nodded. “Go ahead.”<br >

As Uhura punched codes from memory, Zar moved over to stand beside her.<br >”Who are you calling?”

”Your father,” she told him, as she completed the connection. “I hope<br >he’s in his quarters. He could be up on the bridge.” She gave him an impish grin. “I owe him a late-night call.”<br >

Zar’s eyes widened with surprise, but before he could say anything, a<br >familiar voice emerged “Spock here.”

”Sir, this is Uhura. Would it be possible for you to meet me in<br >sickbay? I have a personal request for you.”

”On my way.”<br >

Uhura switched off the intercom. Zar was watching her intently. “How<br >did you know he’s my father?”

”Guessed,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Then, when I asked him, he<br >confirmed it.”

”Oh.” He was about to say more, when they heard the outer door whoosh<br >open.

That can’t be Spock, Uhura realized. He hasn’t even had time to reach<br >the turboli Leonard McCoy entered and stood blinking at them. He was still wearing his dress uniform trousers, but had changed his jacket for<br >a medical tunic. “Hello,” he said, finally. “What are you two doing here? The party isn’t over yet.”<br >

”We came down to see D’berahan,” Nyota answered, feeling absurdly like a<br >kid who has been caught raiding the cookie jar.

”What are you doing here?” Zar asked. “Weren’t you enjoying yourself?”<br >

”Yeah, but I’m the only doctor aboard this trip. I came down to check<br >on Ensign Weinberger-boy broke his shoulder when a gravity flux down in Engineering tossed him against a bulkhead this afternoon.” He peered at<br >them suspiciously. “Nyota, you look guilty as hell. Zar, don’t pull that Vulcan poker-face on me … I can tell something’s going on. What<br >are you up to?”

Uhura looked over at Zar, who raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged.<br >”I asked Zar to try and reach Uberahan.

He thinks if Spock directs the probe, it may be possible.”<br >

”I see.” McCoy took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks a little, then<br >slowly released it. “When Spock tried it, both he and the Marishal almost died.”<br >

”I know it is potentially dangerous,” Zar said.<br >

”Do you think it’s worth the risk?”<br >

Zar hesitated, then said, slowly, “Yes, I do. Life is full of risks …<br >you can’t shut yourself away from them, just because you’re afraid you’ll be hurt.”<br >

McCoy eyed him narrowly. “You must’ve been talking to Jim. That sounds<br >like something he’d say.”

”It wasn’t Jim,” Zar said, dryly.<br >

”Who, then?”<br >

”You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”<br >

The doctor frowned. “Would you be able to monitor the effects of the<br >link on Uberahan, so you could get out if it was causing her any harm?”

”I think so.”<br >

”All right,” McCoy said. “But you’d better get the hell out of there if<br >you get into trouble, hear? It’s not as though there are no other telepaths … we even have to bypass Vulcan on our way home. Maybe it<br >would be better to wait for-He broke off as Zar turned toward the door. ”Spock’s here.”<br >

A moment later, Uhura heard the outer door to sickbay slide open. As<br >Nyota explained why she had called him, Spock stood looking down at the motionless form of the little alien.<br >

Finally, when she was finished, the Vulcan nodded.<br >

”Despite her fear, she risked everything to help us complete our<br >mission. If there is a chance to help her, it is my duty to do so.” He glanced over at Zar. “But you … she is a stranger to you …”<br >

”I’ll just be supporting you and monitoring,” Zar pointed out. “If<br >you’re willing, I am, too.”

Spock hesitated. “Do not underestimate the danger,” he warned his son.<br >”She may have withdrawn so far that she cannot be reached. And I know from experience that you will be supplying most of the energy for the<br >search.”

Zar regarded him levelly. “If our positions were reversed, would<br >Uberahan try to reach me?”

”Yes, I believe she would,” Spock said.<br >

Zar shrugged, a “there you have it” gesture. “Let’s begin.”<br >

Uhura watched as McCoy lowered one side of the enclosure. At the sight<br >of the newcomers, D’berahan’s babies tried to make a crawling beeline back inside their mother’s pouch, but the communications officer, at a<br >nod from McCoy, gently prevented them. “What are we going to do with the children, Mr. Spock?”<br >

The Vulcan considered. “They cannot be in physical contact with<br >Uberahan while we do this. Doctor, can you rig a temporary partition to separate them from her?”<br >

McCoy hastily complied. “Now what?” he asked.<br >

Zar studied the three infants. “There is no way to discover whether<br >they are in mental contact with their mother, since their minds are so alien. Nyota, would you be willing to link with me, then remain on the<br >outskirts of the meld so you could warn us if they experience any distress?”<br >

Uhura hesitated, trying to hide her initial reaction to the suggestion.<br >She had never been part of a mindmeld before, and the idea of letting anyone else touch her thoughts made her mouth dry and her palms grow<br >wet. But I have no choice, she realized. Dberahan’s children need her.

”All right,” she said, steadily.<br >

”Good. You’ll sense things, probably, but you’ll still be conscious,<br >able to see. And,” Zar slanted a look at her, “I’ll do all I can to stay out of the deeper levels of your mind.”<br >

She flashed him a shaky smile. “I trust you.”<br >

”Ready,” Spock said, and, leaning forward, touched his fingers to the<br >domed forehead with its now-ragged topknot of fur. He extended his right hand to Zar, who took it in his left. Uhura looked at their<br >hands. How alike they wereeven though Zar’s were weathered and scarred.

Both closed their eyes, their faces becoming expressionless masks. Uhura<br >could almost feel them withdraw from the here-and-now. Then Zar reached out with his right hand.<br >

Taking a deep breath, she touched the outstretched fingers, feeling them<br >grasp hers gently. Even so, she was fully aware of a potential strength that could have crushed bone.<br >

Stronger still was the mental link that sprang up between them.<br >

Suddenly it was as though she were part of Zar’s body, inside his<br >skin-seeing with his eyes, breathing with his lungs. Her heart lurched, trying to beat at an impossibly high rate, and for a second she felt its<br >throbbing, not beneath her left breast, but lower down, on her right side.<br >

There was nothing overtly sexual about the experience, but for a moment,<br >Uhura felt more intimately aware of a man’s body than she had ever been before. Then the contact between them changed, settling into her mind.<br >She could still see, but was conscious of a strange double vision-with one set of eyes (her own) she watched the three Marishal babies, with<br >the other she experienced only darkness … a darkness shot with alien images.<br >

Are you all right? The words entered her mind as though they had been<br >sketched in fire.

Yes, she thought back, marshaling her strength to form the words<br >mentally. Tell Spock to proceed.

Zar’s consciousness withdrew, but she was still aware of the link<br >between them, alive and pulsing, bringing her snatched bits and pieces of the search he and Spock were making. Too quickly to grasp, scattered<br >memories and images that were not her own flashed by-of Sarpeidon (so that’s where Zar is from! Id give a lot to know how that happened!), of<br >Vulcan, and of Marish.

Uhura kept the physical part of her vision on the Marishal infants,<br >watching them for any sign of distress, snatching an occasional glance at her partners in the meld.<br >

Their faces remained blank, but she knew the strain they were under by<br >their bone-white knuckles, the faint sheen of moisture on their foreheads.<br >

I’ve never seen Spock perspire, she thought. I didn’t know he could.<br >

Finally, the trickle of transmitted memories were mostly of Marish, and<br >Nyota realized they must be reaching their goal.

A sudden brush of terror, then a wild torrent of denial -[No! Must<br >escape! Hide!]

Uhura realized, with a surge of excitement, that Spock had located the<br >Marishal’s identity.

Dberahan, this is Spock. You are safe, now. Come back with us. The<br >wordless reassurance was strong, bringing images of comfort, of friends, of safety.<br >

[Denial, fear]<br >

You are sa , Dberahan, safe. Come with us. We are your fie ftiends …<br >

[No, no-Hide!]<br >

Without any conscious decision on her part, Uhura suddenly found herself<br >forming words, projecting an image D’berahan, see your children? I am looking at them … see them, through my eyes. The ‘ y need you. They<br >might die without you! You must come back, fr their sake. Look at your babies!<br >

After a moment she felt her words, her projected vision, picked up,<br >amplified, and thrust at the Marishal with all the force of two expertly honed minds.<br >

tMy children?]<br >

Yes!<br >

[My children!]<br >

Suddenly, Uhura “heard” a fourth “voice” in the meld, and she was aware<br >of a telepathic presence so strong that it eclipsed the others. The presence “spoke”<br >

[Friends … you have risked much for this one. This one expresses<br >utmost thanks to all … but especially to you, new-friend Nyota Uhura, who loved this one’s children when this one could not … I The little<br >Marishal concluded her speech by broadcasting such a wave of gratitude and affection that Uhura came out of the dissolving meld with tears on<br >her cheeks. She gulped back a sob as she saw D’berahan stir. McCoy released the partition, and the Marishal babies crawled over to their<br >mother, who raised her head to look at them, her hands to touch them.

”We did it!” Nyota whispered, on a ragged breath. She stepped back, her<br >legs trembling with reaction, then turned to Zar, knowing she was grinning like a fool. “We did it!”<br >

She flung her arms around him in a fierce hug, feeling both ecstatic and<br >shaken.

”No, you did it, Nyota,” Zar said, giving her a return squeeze that<br >lifted her clear off the deck. “If you hadn’t projected the image of the children …” -Zar is right,” Spock said, and for a second Uhura<br >was sure she felt the Vulcan’s hand brush her shoulder.

”You all did it,” McCoy said gruffly. He cleared his throat. “Thanks<br >from me, too.”

”But-“<br >

Leonard McCoy leaned over his desk and shook an admonishing finger at<br >his patient. “Quiet! You promised to hear me out.”

”Butfive weeks is out of the question! I can’t afford that much time!”<br >Zar protested.

”You ungrateful-” McCoy began, then took a deep breath, obviously<br >struggling to keep his temper. “Listen, Zar. You’re damned lucky that I can do anything at all about that injury, it’s so old. I’m a doctor,<br >not a wizard. I’m telling you that after a week in suspension therapy, then three to four more of rehabilitation, you’ll walk almost normally<br >again. No more pain. For the love of Mike, isn’t that worth a little time?”<br >

Zar slouched back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.<br >

”You’re right, I am an ungrateful bastard … no pun intended. I<br >do appreciate your attempt to help, I really do.”

He rubbed a hand across his forehead, sighing. “It’s just that …<br >every minute I’m gone, I can’t help thinking that things are happening without me. Intellectually, I know that isn’t so, but the sense of<br >urgency … it gnaws at me.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “And there’s this …<br >

this empty place, inside me, where Wynn was. It’s as though I have lost<br >an arm, or am going blind … I’m able to shut it away, so I can function, but I can’t forget it, not for a second.”<br >

”I understand how you must feel, and it’s completely natural, under the<br >circumstances,” the doctor admitted.

”However, you’d be crazy to pass up this chance-and you know it.”<br >

”So I’m supposed to just lie around and take it easy for over a month?”<br >

”Why the hell not?” McCoy glared at the younger man.<br >

”Listen, my stubborn friend, do you know what those tests showed me?<br >Besides the condition of your leg, I mean?”

”What?”<br >

”A man on the brink of a physical and emotional breakdown. A man who<br >has been under too much stress for way too long. If Jim showed readings like that, I’d declare him unfit for command. Your muscle tone is<br >slipping, your reaction time is off, your stamina is shot-you’re in no shape for a strenuous hike, let alone the fight of your life!”<br >

McCoy drummed his fingers on the top of his desk. “You know I’m right,<br >and if you’re honest, you’ll admit it. You’re tired, Zar. Bone-tired. Extreme stress and fatigue can cause metabolic imbalances that<br >impairjudgment, did you know that?”

Zar sighed. “I know that tired people make mistakes, which is something<br >any commander learns very quickly.”

”How long have you been having stomach pains?”<br >

The gray eyes widened. “How did you-” He broke off, shrugging. “I’ve<br >always had a sensitive stomach, you know that.”

”I know that if you don’t quit driving yourself so hard, and don’t quit<br >skipping meals, you’re going to develop the Vulcan version of a full-blown ulcer. And you won’t like that, at all.”<br >

”Can’t you repair the damage?”<br >

”Sure. But if you go back and subject yourself to the same stresses in<br >the same way, it’ll come back. You need to take better care of yourself. Start meditating again, every day.<br >

How long has it been since you painted?”<br >

”Probably ten years.”<br >

”Paint, too. Or, if you don’t want to do that, go for a quiet ride in<br >the woods-anything to let your body and mind take some time off, understand?”<br >

”Yes. But I can’t stay here for five-“<br >

”How long has it been since you had a vacation? Be honest.”<br >

Zar looked down. “Two years ago, when I got this.” He tapped his<br >midsection. “I was confined to quarters for a week from a spear thrust. My mail kept it from penetrating, but the impact broke a rib.”<br >

”it broke two,” said McCoy, shortly. “And cracked another. It’s a<br >miracle you didn’t get a punctured lung from getting up too soon, you fool. That’s no vacation. You need a month off, son. You need to eat<br >nutritious meals, catch up on your sleep, and exercise sensibly.”

”I suppose I do. But Wynn- “Listen to me, Zar. You told me that Wynn<br >wanted you to accompany us, right? That she was very insistent about it?”<br >

”Yes, she was.”<br >

”And that she told you the reason she wanted you to come back with us<br >was that she had received a … whatever she called it-a Sending-that it was vital for you-for your life-to do so, right?”<br >

”Yes.”<br >

”Well,” McCoy sat back confidently, “hasn’t it occurred to you that<br >perhaps the reason she was so set on your coming back to help us was that your getting back into shape and my fixing your leg would turn out<br >to be essential to your survival?”

Zar glanced up at the doctor, startled. In top condition, with two good<br >legs, I might be able to dodge or parry a blow that otherwise would land, he thought. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. “That does make<br >sense.”

”You bet it does.”<br >

”But what about the Enterprise? What will Jim do, just keep orbiting<br >Gateway while I undergo this therapy and recover? Won’t Starfleet Command notice that the Enterprise hasn’t come home?”<br >

McCoy grinned. “Admiral Morrow was so relieved to hear that we<br >succeeded that he assigned us a little mission in the next quadrant to update the course of an ion storm discovered last year. It’ll take just<br >about four weeks, travel time included.”

”You mean this Admiral Morrow knows about me?”<br >

”Sure. Spock told him. You should’ve been there.”<br >

Zar raised an eyebrow as he envisioned the moment.<br >

”And Morrow agreed to let you ferry a civilian around for a month?”<br >

McCoy grinned. “Bite your tongue. You’re not a mere civilian, you’re a<br >visiting head-of-state.”

”Oh, Goddess …” The gray eyes danced with laughter, then sobered.<br >”You seem to have thought of everything.”

”It’s the least we can do. What about it, what do you say?”<br >

Zar turned his palms up in a gesture of resignation.<br >

”Looks like I’m going to take a vacation.”<br >

”Okay, easy now … take it slow, Zar … that’s it, just lie there<br >for a second. How do you feel?”

Zar shook his head, trying to make the scene around him stop wavering.<br >”Dizzy.” He blinked, and his surroundings gradually steadied. He recognized the recovery room in sickbay, and McCoy’s face bent over him.<br >On the other side of the couch was the enormous Coridian nurse, and beside him, Spock. “Did it Work? Have I really been unconscious for a<br >week?”

”Yes, to both questions. How many fingers am I holding up?”<br >

Zar squinted against the light. “Just one … and in a barracks, that<br >gesture would earn you a sore jaw.”

McCoy chuckled. “You’ll do. Want to sit up?”<br >

”Ves.” With eight hands helping (two sets belonged to the e47 nurse),<br >Zar sat up. The room spun around him for a second, then steadied. “Why do I feel so weak?”<br >

”Because you haven’t moved a muscle for seven days.<br >

You’ll feel better the longer you’re up. Hungry?”<br >

”Ravenous.”<br >

After he had eaten, Zar demanded to try walking. “All fight,” McCoy<br >said. “I guess that’s the best way to convince you to take it easy. Urgh’kesht, don’t let go of him.”<br >

”Yes, Doctor,” the nurse said, obediently gripping Zar’s left arm in<br >three meaty red hands.

Zar inched his way to the side of the couch, felt the deck against the<br >soles of his bare feet, then cautiously swung his weight forward and stood up. He couldn’t repress a delighted grin. “The pain is gone!”<br >

”Told you so,” McCoy said, calmly. “Now take a step.”<br >

Zar lifted his left leg and strode forward-and was only saved from<br >crashing down in an ignominious heap by Urgh’kesht’s grip. The nurse held him upright as he swayed drunkenly.<br >

”I can’t walk!” Zar fought back panic. “Why not?”<br >

The doctor folded his arms across his chest and regarded his patient<br >imperturbably. “What’s wrong is that for fifteen years you’ve been favoring that leg by walking incorrectly.<br >

You’re going to have to relearn how to walk normally.”<br >

Zar thought about how long it had taken him to get around again after<br >the initial injury. “But that’ll take months!”

McCoy shook his head. “Not if you obey your kindly old doctor’s orders.<br >You’ll spend part of each day with a regen unit on the leg, then do exercises on the physical therapy equipment, with Urgh’kesht, here.<br >After that, you can exercise on your own-swimming would be good. Every day you’ll be able to use it a little more … until you’re back to<br >normal.” He frowned. “I’ll warn you, it’s always going to be a bit short. But it’ll be so slight you may be the only one to notice.”<br >

Gritting his teeth, Zar tried another step, and this time managed to<br >keep his balance, though all the muscles in his left thigh felt as though they were going into spasms, He took a deep breath, and a third<br >step. Then a fourth …

As each day passed, he improved. On the third day, he walked unassisted<br >to the gym and worked out on the equipment there, careful not to strain the leg. Then he cautiously lowered himself into the shallow end of the<br >pool, and, teeth fastened in his lower lip, began the stretching and kicking movements Urgh’kesht had shown him.<br >

After two days in the shallow end, he asked Spock to teach him to swim<br >(a skill he had never acquired, due to Sarpeidon’s ice-age climate). Within another week he was growing pro clent enough to manage laps, and,<br >as McCoy had predicted, this exercise proved to be one of the most beneficial. <br >

Zar took his enforced “vacation” as seriously as any work he’d ever<br >done. He drove himself to the limit in his workouts, but was careful never to exceed it … never to tax himself too hard. His daytime<br >world narrowed to his leg and his general physical condition. He tempered and honed his body as he had the blade of his sword, knowing<br >that his strength, agility, and reaction time might make all the difference.<br >

His evening hours were spent going over the battle plans and maps he’d<br >redrawn from memory, analyzing strategy, ground configuration, troop deployment, trying to plan for every contingency. When Spock and Kirk<br >discovered what he was doing, the three spent hours discussing and refining possible tactics …<br >

”This catapult here,” Kirk said, pointing to a poker chip representing<br >the assault engine. “If your map is accurate, you’ve got a small rise here, fifty meters further on. Right?”<br >

Zar nodded. “All of Moorgate Plain slopes gradually downhill to the<br >Redbank, but I see what you mean. If I change the catapult’s position to the top of that rise, its range would be considerably extended . -<br >.” He put out a finger and pushed the chip closer to the blue swath marking the Redbank. “But that little rise is steep … I’d need extra<br >vykar and troops to pull it uphill-would it be worth it?”

Spock studied the pattern of troop deployment. “A good question. What<br >type of ground is it?”

”Broken and rather rocky.”<br >

”Then I would estimate that the effort expended in getting the catapult<br >up there would be too great to be offset by the greater range you would achieve.”<br >

Zar sighed. “You’re right.” He cocked an eyebrow at Kirk. “You know,<br >Jim, I just thought of something. Since the Guardian is working again, we could always hop through and bring back a couple of consultants.”<br >

The admiral looked up, his hazel eyes brightening. “Good idea! Uh,<br >let’s see … what about Alexander? And Artos of Britain? Don’t forget old Julius!”<br >

Zar nodded. “Geronimo, of course. And Genghis. Patton?”<br >

”Too recent for this kind of warfare. Though he used to brag that he’d<br >fought at Marathon in a previous life …

Don’t you have anyone to contribute, Spock? What was the name of that<br >famous pre-reformation Vulcan general?

Voltan?”<br >

‘4Voltag,” Spock said, automatically, staring at both of them as though<br >trying to reassure himself that they were pulling his leg. Zar and Kirk gazed earnestly back at him, the embodiment of innocence. Spock’s<br >eyebrow went up in dismay. “But … such an action would be disastrous to the integrity of the timestream …” The Vulcan broke off, his<br >eyes sharpening as Kirk’s mouth began a telltale quiver. “I see,” he said, distantly. “I hope both of you enjoyed your little joke.”<br >

The admiral began to chuckle. “You should have seen your expression.”<br >He gave Zara sidelong glance. “Been a long time since I had him going like that. When I first knew him, Bones and I used to kid him-though I<br >must admit, as time went on he learned to give as good as he got.”

”Better,” said Spock, flatly.<br >

”Ouch,” Kirk winced exaggeratedly. “Zar, I think we’d better get back<br >to that battle plan - - .”

As the Enlerprise performed her assigned mission, the Guardian continued<br >to contact Zar every few days; distance seemed no hindrance to the time entity. Their “conversations” were fairly one-sided … Zar encouraged<br >the ancient creation to tell him of the wonders it had witnessed and recorded, and it seemed pleased to comply. He “listened,” and wondered.<br >

”Jim tells me we’re beading back to Gateway tomorrow,” Dr. McCoy said,<br >checking the settings on the regen unit strapped to his patient’s leg.

Zar nodded. “That’s what Spock told me. How did I do in those tests I<br >took this morning?”

”The leg’s coming along excellently. You’ve worked hard to condition<br >it, and it shows. Now just don’t mess up my handiwork by straining any muscles or getting a hunk chopped out of you, and I’ll be very pleased.”<br >

McCoy crossed the physical therapy room, disappeared into his office,<br >and returned with a cup of coffee. “Want some?”

Zar shook his head. “I’ve had my one cup. I can’t afford to get too<br >dependent on caffeine, since there’s none where I’m going.” He flexed his hands, noticing that the callouses on his palms were beginning to<br >soften and peel. “What about my overall reaction time and muscle tone? My stamina?”<br >

McCoy grinned. “Let me put it this way. If a rogue vitha was raiding<br >my herds, I’d hire you to get rid of it.”

Smiling, Zar relaxed. “Then you certify me fit for command?”<br >

”Absolutely.” McCoy hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t bring this up, in<br >case you’ve forgotten, but have you made a decision about that other matter we discussed? You’ve seen the results of those genetic tests I<br >ran. You’re fine.”

”I hadn’t forgotten.” Zar stared fixedly at the diagnostic readings on<br >the regen unit, as though he had never seen them before. “Last night I dreamed, Leonard. I dreamed about Araen’s death, the way I have dozens<br >of times before …”

McCoy settled back and took a sip of coffee. “Not surprising, after<br >what the Originators did. Jim told me he’s dreamed about his mother’s death several times since he saw her image on Gateway.” His face<br >darkened. “Hell, I dreamed about Jocelyn-and that’s something I haven’t done in a long time. I can imagine how you felt, though.”<br >

Zar frowned miserably at his leg. “I don’t know what to do, Len. I’m<br >still afraid, the dream proves that, but lately I’ve been thinking that asking you to give me that hypo now would be like … like breaking<br >faith with Wynn. As though I’d repaid her honesty with a lie. Not to mention that I’d be mocking her religious beliefs. I’m torn.”<br >

”You said Wynn wants children. How do you feel about it?”<br >

Confused, Zar glanced up. “I explained why I was afraid-“<br >

McCoy was already shaking his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. Let<br >me put it another way. Suppose your wife had a normal pregnancy and a healthy baby. Would you want the child?”<br >

”Of course I would! Didn’t I make that clear?”<br >

”No.” McCoy stared at him, unblinking.<br >

Zar settled back against the padded couch and considered silently.<br >”Hmmmm,” he said, finally. “You’re telling me, in your own inimitable fashion, that I’m being paranoid.”<br >

”Yes.” After a second to allow his response to sink in, the doctor<br >raised an eyebrow. “Now, obviously, there’s a risk, I’d be a liar to tell you there isn’t. But the danger to Wynn is no greater than for any<br >other woman in your time period.

And there is nothing wrong with your genes.” He finished the last of his<br >coffee. “Sometimes, it’s not just a matter of taking risks yourself. Sometimes, you’ve got to be willing to let the people you love take<br >them. You can’t keep them in a steri-field.”

”I see.”<br >

”Do you? Do you really?”<br >

”I… I’m trying, Doc. I’ve lived with this guilt for so long… it’s<br >hard to let it go. At least when I was blaming myself, I felt as though I had some … control … over what happened.” Zar shook his head,<br >scowling. “That sounds crazy.”

”No, it sounds human. Which is not an insult, no matter what your pop<br >says.”

Zar smiled faintly. “You two … still sparring, after all these<br >years. I’m going to miss that.”

He straightened his leg gingerly within the confines of the regen unit.<br >”And I’ll miss the stars. It’s been wonderful to see them again, in all their myriad colors … every night before bed I’ve gone up to the<br >observation deck and just sat there watching them. I never get tired of seeing the stars.”<br >

”Why don’t you stay, then?” McCoy raised a hand to forestall Zar’s<br >protest. “Wait, I know what you’re going to say. But you could go back and get Wynn, then bring her through the Guardian, too. You’d be doing<br >her a favor.”

”Would P-Zar shook his head. “No, Leonard. Wynn would be a hopeless<br >anachronism in this time … a priestess who’d devoted her life to serving a Goddess whose name has been forgotten for thousands of years.<br >She’d never fit in.

She’s been brought up to believe in demons, just as sincerely as your<br >society believes in science.”

”You could help her adjust. She’s an intelligent woman, she could<br >learn.”

”But would she ever be happy? I doubt it. Wynn is like Jim, she’s a<br >natural leader. In this society, she’d feel useless … powerless.”

”Sounds like what you said about yourself back on Sarpeidon when we<br >first tried to convince you to stay.”Yes … but it’s worse for her. Unlike me, Wynn enjoys being in command. Hell, if I could figure out a<br >way to abdicate and devote myself just to teaching my people, I’d probably do it, because that’s what I enjoy. My mother was a teacher,<br >you know. And my grandmother, Amanda.”

McCoy smiled. “So’s your father, come to think of it … one of the<br >most highly regarded instructors at Starfleet Academy.”

An answering smile tugged at the comer of Zar’s mouth.<br >

”Runs in the family. Maybe, if I make it through, I can gradually hand<br >over the reins to Wynn.”

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes, then Zar said,<br >”I’m especially going to miss you, Leonard.

You know, we haven’t had time for a poker game, yet. How am I going to<br >pay my doctor’s bill?”

McCoy grinned. “We’ve still got six days. I’ll try and set something<br >up.”

”No, Len. I’m going back as soon as we make orbit around Gateway. Day<br >after tomorrow.”

”It’s too early!” McCoy protested. “The leg’s not quite ready. I was<br >going to try and talk you into making it ten days or two weeks, rather than just another week!’<br >

”The leg’s fine. You said yourself that I’ve made excellent progress.”<br >

”But if you wait another ten days, I could be certain there’s no<br >residual weakness! As it is… it might go out on you if you strain it.”<br >

”I’ll have to risk that. Leonard… I lie awake at night, thinking<br >about the battle, imagining… you know. If I wait any longer, I’ll go crazy. I’ve got to get this over with …<br >

one way or another.”<br >

Spock stepped onto the turbolift at the end of his duty shift. “Deck<br >E, level 5,” he said absently, mentally reviewing Naraht’s report on the trajectory of the ion storm. The Horta officer ran his Science<br >Department with admirable efficiency and logic. A formal commendation is in order. the Vulcan decided. I will speak to Starfleet Command<br >about it when we reach Earth …

When Spock entered his quarters a few minutes later, he found Zar<br >sitting at the desk before the terminal, staring at a blank screen.

The Vulcan was not surprised to find him there, since his son had been a<br >frequent visitor during his father’s off-duty hours, but now he knew immediately that something was wrong. Silent-footed, he stepped over to<br >glance down at the label of the data cassette lying on the desktop.

In his own neat Vulcan script, it read<br >

SARPEIDON-HISTORY (GF)<br >

Spock’s breath caught in his throat, then he said, very quietly, “Did<br >you watch it?”

Zar did not start when he heard the voice, and Spock realized that he<br >had known his father was there all along.

”No,” he said, finally. “I couldn’t get up the nerve.”<br >

The Vulcan reached over the other’s shoulder to pick up the cassette.<br >”There is no logic in subjecting yourself to a viewing. I intended from the first to tell you whatever I could that might enable you to avoid<br >… this.”

Zar nodded, still half-turned away. “I’d appreciate that.”<br >

Spock seated himself on the edge of his meditation stone, a long,<br >polished slab of Vulcan granite-one of the few luxuries he permitted himself. He stared unseeing at the large IDIC wall-mosaic. “The<br >details were difficult to discern, but it … happens … on a small hill,” he said, at last. “There is … a blow to the head. I could<br >not see the man’s face, but he did not appear to be wearing much in the way of armor. His arms, for example, were bare.”<br >

”Asyri,” Zar identified. “Many of them go into battle wearing only a<br >bronze helmet, sleeveless bronze cuirass, a battle kilt, and bronze greaves from their knees to their sandals. Lots of vulnerable spots,<br >but the light weight leaves them very quick.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he turned to face Spock, and the Vulcan saw that he was<br >clean-shaven, and that his hair had been trimmed.

”Could you see the weapon?”<br >

Spock shook his head. “Some type of impact weapon. It resembled a<br >short axe, but I could not be positive. Definitely not a sword.”

Zar nodded impassively, then glanced up and met the Vulcan’s eyes. “One<br >more question, and forgive me in advance for being gruesome, but …” he shrugged, “there are worse things than death. Living with a crippled<br >mind, for example. Was it a killing blow? Immediately fatal?”

”From the force of the blow and the resulting amount of blood, I am<br >positive,” Spock said levelly, “that no one could have survived it.”

”That’s reassurance of a sort, anyway,” Zar said. “I recognize that it<br >was … difficult … for you to speak of this, and I am sorry I had to ask. Thank you for telling me.”<br >

Spock nodded silently, avoiding his son’s eyes. He relived the<br >desolation that he had felt while watching the battle sequence. Stay here, he wanted to say. Don’t let this thing happen. But he could not<br >speak; Zar had made his decision, and there was nothing … nothing … that he, Spock, could do.<br >

The Vulcan had never felt so helpless.<br >

When he looked up again, Zar was watching him, concerned. “Are you all<br >right?”

”Yes,” To change the subject, he said the first thing that came into his<br >head. “Your beard is gone.”

Zar felt his jaw again. “It feels strange, after all these years. I<br >intended to clip it extra short, the way I always do before a battle-a beard long enough to grab can be dangerous-but I couldn’t find any<br >scissors. So I used your beard repressor. Doc gave me a haircut, too, for old time’s sake.”<br >

”When are you going back?”<br >

”Tomorrow morning, right after breakfast.”<br >

”I see.” Spock kept his voice level with an effort. So soon?<br >

he thought, blankly. But … I thought we would have another week, at<br >least “McCoy says your leg is completely healed?”

”No, Leonard wants me to stay another ten days. He lectured me the<br >whole time I was on the regen unit this morning about waiting … but I can’t. The leg feels fine.<br >

I’ve even been fencing with Sulu.”<br >

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I heard about that. Those bouts are becoming<br >one of the ship’s major spectator attractions. Apparently you are considered well-matched opponents.”<br >

Zar shook his head ruefully. “Hardly. Hikaru-he’s fast-fences circles<br >around me with the foil and the dp6e.”

He rose and walked smoothly over to stand in front of the ancient Vulcan<br >S’harien sword hanging on the wall with the other antique weapons. “I do better with the saber, because it has an edge, but the saber is<br >Sulu’s partinlar forte-no pun intended-so he wins there, too.

”But . a wicked smile touched his mouth, “today TwE FOR YESTERDAY<br >Scotty, who watched yesterday’s saber match, produced two clavmores-Scottish broadswords-and two bucklers, and dared us to go the<br >best two out of three with them.

”What happened?”<br >

”You should have seen Hikaru’s face when he picked his up. The things<br >were even longer and heavier than my bastard sword.” (Spock raised an eyebrow at the nomenclature.) “The stance is different, too-more<br >face-on, so you can swing two-handed, instead of sideways. Not surprisingly, I won every encounter. Scotty, who’d bet on the matches,<br >cleaned up. He said he wanted to nominate me for honorary membership in the Scott clan.”<br >

Spock’s eyebrow went up. “What was Commander Sulu’s reaction to his<br >defeat?”

”He told me he hadn’t had so much fun in years. He wanted me to coach<br >him in using a broadsword, but of course I’m leaving tomorrow. So Scotty volunteered to give him some pointers.”<br >

The Vulcan nodded absently. Tomorrow … he thought.<br >

And after you go, I will almost certainly never see you again.<br >

There are so many things I want to say to you, but cannot …<br >

With an abrupt, angry movement, Spock got up and began pacing<br >restlessly, hands behind his back. “You seem remarkably untroubled about what you may face when you return tomorrow.”<br >

”I think our encounter with those two disturbed superbeings overloaded<br >all my scare circuits,” Zar replied.

His eyes met the Vulcan’s, clear and candid. “And, it’s odd, but I<br >suppose people condemned to hang have the same reaction-there’s a curious serenity that comes from knowing how, when, and where you’re<br >going to die. You know that, until then, nothing can touch you.”

But something will touch you. Something … someone … is going to<br >kill you. If only … if only ‘ v there were something I could do. If only I could convince you to stay here, where it is safe … Spock<br >realized that his reasoning abilities were compromised, due to personal involvement, but he could not help it. If only I could …<br >

”Father.” Spock looked up. “There’s something I want you to know. Wynn<br >told me that she thinks there is a way that I may avoid … what you saw. That was why she insisted that I come here to help you. It’s<br >possible that, with your warning and with my leg healed, I might be quick enough to dodge that blow.”<br >

Spock felt a spark of hope kindle within him.<br >

Zar looked down at his hands. “I want to be quick enough, now. The<br >lecture you gave me that night after the handfasting made me think, and I began to realize that what I’d been calling fatalism was mostly a bad<br >dose of self-pity.

Thank you for helping me see that.”<br >

The Vulcan smiled faintly. “I suspect that what happened afterwards<br >with Wynn had more to do with your renewed enthusiasm for life than any words of mine,” he said, dryly.<br >

Startled, Zar glanced up, then, as Spock’s words sank in, his eyes<br >widened and he flushed hotly. “Damn,” he muttered, chagrined. “Look what you’ve made me do. I haven’t blushed in years.”<br >

”It is especially noticeable now that the beard is gone,” his father<br >observed, amiably.

Zar raised an eyebrow at him, then his teeth flashed in a reluctant<br >grin. “I’ll pay you back for that.”

”I hope you get the chance,” Spock said, seriouslyThey exchanged a long,<br >searching glance, then Zar handed him another cassette. “Before I forget, I want you to have this. I made it for you to show Amanda and<br >Sarek …

if you think they’d like to see it. You decide.”<br >

The Vulcan took the little square. “Thank you. I’m sure it will mean a<br >great deal to them.” He drew a deep breath, then struggled for words. ”It is difficult for me to express … what seeing you again has meant<br >…” He hesitated, then made a small gesture of frustration. “More than friendship, you know that …”<br >

”Father …” Zar interrupted, softly. “I do know. I understand.”<br >

Ifonly I could stop youfrom going but I cannot. Ifonly I could help you<br >… but that is impossible. Impossible?

Spock’s eyes narrowed in thought as the words he’d said so often to his<br >students came back to him. There are always possibilities… if only one can find them … always possibilities…<br >

”Have you had dinner?” he said suddenly, his mind working busily,<br >analyzing the problem from all angles.

Possibilities …<br >

Zar was taken aback at the complete change of subject, but shook his<br >head and answered, “Not yet.”

”Shall we?” Spock asked. “I find I am suddenly hungry.”<br >

”Got everything?” Kirk called as he approached Zar, who was standing<br >with McCoy in the corridor outside the transporter room.

Zar hefted the bag he carried . “New music and literature cassettes,<br >plus the medical kit Leonard put together. All here.”

”Not quite all,” Kirk said, and produced a package from behind his back.<br >”Bones told me you missed this. It’s coffee.”

”Thank you!” Zar took the large parcel, then sniffed it appreciatively.<br >”This is wonderful.”

Kirk grinned. “It’s the least I can do for the man who got Scotty to<br >paint my bridge doors red again.”

The Sovrcn smiled back. “They look like old times, don’t they?”<br >

The admiral nodded, lowering his voice. “Of course, he says he’ll have<br >to repaint them to regulation Spec before we dock, but I’ve certainly enjoyed them. Even considering the circumstances that brought us here,<br >it’s been great to be out from behind that desk.”

”This is where you belong, Jim,” Zar said, quietly. “You know that.”<br >

Kirk hesitated, then looked away. Qfcourse I know, damn it. But what<br >can I do about it? “Where’s Spock? He should have been here by now. When he wasn’t at breakfast, I figured he was going to meet us here.<br >Maybe I’d better page him.”

”No.” Kirk could see hurt disappointment in the gray eyes, but Zar<br >sounded adamant. “No, don’t. We … said good-bye yesterday evening.”

”Well … all right.” Reluctantly, Kirk led the way into the<br >transporter room, then set the controls, deliberately delaying in case the Vulcan changed his mind and decided to join them. I can’t believe<br >Spock isn’t going to say good-bye …

”You take care of yourself, now,” McCoy was saying, his voice harsh with<br >emotion. “Don’t strain that leg. Remember to keep up those exercises … don’t forget to meditate … and remember to He broke off. “Oh,<br >damn’ I can ‘ t stand this.” The doctor seized Zar in a brief, fierce hug, then was gone, out the door.<br >

Kirk turned away from the console, holding out his hand.<br >

”I’ll miss you, ZarA lot. Take care of yourself, all right?”<br >

Zar gripped his hand tightly. “You do the same, Jim. I’ll miss all of<br >you, too. And her-” He made an all-inclusive gesture at the bulkheads and console. “Take care of her.”<br >

”You know I will.”<br >

Kirk watched him step up on the pad, clutching his bag and package of<br >coffee, then managed a final smile and wave.

”Good-bye, Jim.”<br >

The transporter whined, then Kirk was alone in the chamber.<br >

When the admiral stepped out of the room, he found McCoy waiting for him<br >in the corridor. The doctor’s eyes were reddened, but he was outwardly composed. “You okay, Bones?”<br >

”Yeah,” McCoy grunted, in a “let’s change the subject” tone.<br >

”Have you seen Spock this morning?”<br >

”No, but when I do, I’m going to give that coldblooded Vulcan<br >sonofabitch a piece of my mind. Imagine him not showing up to say good-bye!” McCoy’s sorrow vanished in a surge of righteous indignation.<br >”Where the hell is he?”

”I don’t know. He’s not on duty. Maybe he’s in his quarters.” The<br >admiral frowned, conscious of a growing unease. “Maybe we ought to see if he’s all right.”<br >

When they reached the entrance to the Vulcan’s cabin, Kirk identified<br >himself, but there was no answer. “He’s not here.”

”Get Uhura to page him,” McCoy suggested.<br >

Instead, Kirk pressed the “open” button, and the portal slid silently<br >aside. Vulcans never locked doors.

He walked into the room, feeling the higher temperature flow over his<br >body, partially combating the sudden chill that struck him. “Something’s not right, Bones,” he said, looking around. “Something’s different …<br >missing …”

McCoy frowned. “Everything looks okay to me …<br >

course you spend more time here than I do, so you’d be the one to<br >notice.” He moved toward the intercom. “Want me to request a page?”

”Hold on a second,” the admiral said absently, his gaze sweeping the<br >room . bunk, neatly made with military precision; meditation stone-, firepot in the alcove; IDIC mosaic; desk with the computer tie-in; all<br >normal, all as they should be …

Kirk 11 suddenly stiffened. “Oh, no. God in Heaven, no …<br >

McCoy grabbed his friend’s arm, his grasp hard and frightened. “What’s<br >wrong, Jim?”

Wordlessly, Kirk pointed to the wall, at Spock’s collection of ancient<br >Vulcan weapons. Two of them that Jim had particular cause to remember were missing.<br >

”It looks the same to me! What is it?” McCoy demanded.<br >

”The lirpa and the ahn-woon, ” Kirk said, his voice tight with fear.<br >”They’re gone. He’s taken them with him, Bones.”

”Taken them where?”<br >

”Sarpeidon, of course.” The admiral’s voice was hollow.<br >

”Spock’s gone back to that battle, to try and save Zar,”<br >

Chapter Fourteen<br >

ZAR PACED sLowLy back and forth, the chill breeze stirring his hair. He<br >was warm enough within the muffling folds of his cloak, but he shivered nevertheless. His stomach lurched, then tightened with nausea. You’d<br >think you’d be used to this by now, he thought, gritting his teeth.

But it was always the same; before every battle he fought a silent<br >conflict with his own insides, one that had nothing to do with the death-warnings he had received about those who were close to him. These<br >other bouts were caused by nothing but pre-battle nerves. When the fighting began, they would vanish.<br >

You’d think you were a raw recruit, he told himself disgustedly, instead<br >ofthe First-in- War. You’ll be lucky to get through your “do or die speech ” without disgracing yourself today.<br >

On the other hand, he reminded himself dourly, this is probably your<br >last battle, so ifyou can just make it through this time, it’s likely you won’t have to worry about making any more speeches …<br >

To distract himself from such thoughts, he mentally stripped away the<br >darkness, reviewing in his mind the terrain where he and those under his command would soon be fighting.<br >

He was standing on Moorgate Plain, a large, rolling expanse of<br >still-damp turf that sloped gradually downward toward the Redbank, which lay nearly half a kilometer before him. On either side, the plain<br >heaved itself into larger and larger swells as it met the foothills of the mountains to the north and south. At his back, about two kilometers<br >away, lay New Araen.

The Lakreo Valley narrowed as it approached the city, and Zar was<br >counting on the noncombatants having ample time to reach the foothills and the mountain passes if the day went against them; his troops could<br >hold the valley entrance for a long time.

But his strategy demanded room to maneuver, so their first encounter<br >with the invaders would be here, on Moorgate Plain.

”Sire?” Cletas’s voice reached him out of the darkness.<br >

Zar could barely make out the outline of his Second-inWar; the night was<br >overcast, black as the bottom of a well, and the camp torches were far behind them.<br >

”Here, Cletas. Are we ready?”<br >

”All troops in position, sire. We’ve made the changes in the catapult<br >positions you ordered and redistributed the archers as you instructed. Yarlev and the cavalry are concealed in the hills, waiting for our<br >signal.”

”Good.” Zar was about to say more, but another spasm of nausea knotted<br >his stomach. He fought it down and began walking again, the Second beside him. Both of them stepped cautiously, careful to avoid the<br >thinly camouflaged pits the troops had dug during the night to trap the enemy chariots as they raced up out of the river.<br >

”It’s hard, waiting, isn’t it?” Cletas said.<br >

”Yes.” Zar looked across the Redbank, seeing the torches in the enemy<br >camp. There are so many of them … we’re still so outnumbered … He shuddered, and lowered his voice to ask, “Do you ever get the shakes<br >before a battle, Cletas?”

”Every time,” his Second said, cheerfully. “And it’s equal odds whether<br >I lose my breakfast or not. Remember our first fight together? That big troop of bandits, with the leader who was missing an eye and wore<br >the necklace made of scalps?”

”I remember. “When we rode into that one, I not only puked, I rode home<br >on a wet saddle.” The Sovren heard the grin in the Second’s voice. ”Never told anyone about it … until now.”<br >

Zar put a hand on Cletas’s shoulder, feeling the flexible hardness of<br >the Second’s mail byrnie beneath his cloak.

”Thanks, my friend. It helps to talk, doesn’t it? I recognize your<br >strategy … and believe me, I appreciate it. May Ashmara keep you safe today.”<br >

”Will She? Will I be safe?”<br >

Zar drew in a breath. “So you know about that?”<br >

”I’ve known for years. Ever since the Lady Araen died.”<br >

”I see. I’ve had no warning yet today, Cletas. So perhaps you’ll make<br >it through.”

”Does that mean that you’ll be safe, too, my liege?”<br >

”I don’t know. I can only tell about others, never myself.”<br >

They stood in silence for a while, hearing the faint but unmistakable<br >sounds of the army massed behind them (soft curses, hiss of whetstone against steel, the restless blowing and pawing of a vykar, a few<br >plaintive bars of music) and, before them, the even fainter blup-blup of the Redbank as it lapped its banks.<br >

Zar was careful to keep his mental shield up, to listen only with his<br >ears, never with his mind-he knew that letting his guard down for even a moment could prove disastrous.<br >

There was too much apprehension before a battle, and too much pain and<br >fear during it. He had learned, of necessity, to keep his mind-shield raised automatically, but it represented another drain on his physical<br >and mental energies.

Cletas sniffed the breeze coming down off the mountains.<br >

”I’ll wager it’ll storm by midday.”<br >

”Those clouds are thickening,” Zar said, nodding. “it will be a late<br >dawn, and a dark one. Still, there’ll be light in another hour. I’d better go and get ready.”<br >

Slowly, the Sovren picked his way through the darkness, back to the<br >command tent. It shone pale gold, lit from within by lamplight. He nodded to the saluting guard, ducked through the open flap, and went in.<br >

Wynn stood in the middle of the tent , double-checking the fastenings on<br >her armor. Voba knelt beside her, lacing her new chain-mail byrnie. She wore no helm yet, but was otherwise fully armed. Her leg, thigh, knee,<br >and arm guards were her old ones, made of the bronze-plated boiled leather-there had been no time to make plate steel ones to fit her.<br >

”How do you like your wedding present?” Zar asked.<br >

Wynn drew the new sword hanging on her left hip, and the lamplight sent<br >amber runners shimmering down the blued steel. “I love it-. The length is just right, and the balance is superb. Although,” she grinned at him<br >as Voba stepped back and she swung the weapon in a constrained drill, mindful of the limited space, forehand, backhand, and chop, “I had<br >trouble keeping a straight face when you presented the swords to Father and me in front of all the officers. You have to admit, a sword is a<br >somewhat …

symbolic … gift for a husband to give his wife.” She raised her<br >eyebrows at him suggestively.

Zar shook his head. “That significance never occurred to me,” a slow<br >smile tugged at his mouth, “at least not until I happened to notice Cletas’s face. He looked as if he were strangling, trying not to<br >laugh.”

”That’s because you don’t have a dirty mind, my dear lord. Cletas and I<br >do.” She sheathed the sword without looking down at the scabbard. “It’s a good thing you were wearing your helmet. I don’t think anyone else<br >saw you blush.”

”That’s twice in two days,” Zar said, ruefully. Their eyes met, and he<br >took an involuntary step toward her, wishing they could be alone-just for a few minutes. Since that first ecstatic embrace when he’d first<br >come back, they’d been surrounded by others and too swamped by duties to exchange more than a quick smile and a few whispered words …<br >

Voba cleared his throat, and Zar turned to see his aide-decamp standing<br >there, his arms full of mail and plate. He sighed. “You’re right, it’s time.”<br >

The Sovren glanced over the assorted pieces Voba was holding and made<br >his selection. In recent years he had spent much of his time during battle mounted, directing troop movements rather than fighting, and had<br >worn the armor of a light cavalry trooper so he could move fast. But he had no illusions about today today they would all be involved in<br >close-quarters, hand-to-hand fighting, before it was over.

The problem was to balance the weight of the armor against the<br >protection factor. Knights during Terra’s medieval period had worn suits of plate armor (often with chain mail beneath) that had afforded<br >them excellent protection from blows and thrusts, but were so heavy that the warrior would only be capable of strenuous fighting for fifteen or<br >twenty minutes at a stretch.

Now Zar chose a pair of chain-mail leggings-chausses -that were held up<br >by a belt at the waist, then added his much-mended mail byrnic. Short-sleeved, it covered his torso to mid-thigh, extending over the<br >tops of the chausses.

Then, frowning, he picked up a mail hood with an attached coif that hung<br >down to protect the throat and neck.

Ordinarily, the Sovren wore only his plate steel helmet with its<br >distinctive scarlet plume, so his troops could recognize him easily, but, in view of Spock’s warning, additional head protection seemed in<br >order. I’m going to roast in all this.

Damn.<br >

Zar placed the hood and coif on the pile.<br >

”Very good, sire,” Voba said, nodding approval. The red-haired aide was<br >always hinting that his commander needed more and heavier armor. “But what about rerebraces and vambraces?”<br >

The Sovren nodded reluctantly, and selected the upper and lower arm<br >guards made from plate steel. “Happy now, Voba?”

”That’s much better, sire.”<br >

Zar pulled on the snug-fitting hose that protected the skin from<br >chafing, then slid the chausses up like long stockings.

The only way to put on armor was from the ground up; he’d discovered<br >that the first time he’d tried it the other way.

Voba hopefully produced a pair of demi-greviere-plate steel shields to<br >cover the front of the leg from ankle to knee, and Zar, grumbling under Ns breath, let his aide buckle them on. Then he shrugged on the quilted<br >leather shirt and Voba faced his byrnie. Finally, he slid on a tight cap and drew the mail hood over it. He’d fasten the coif up around his<br >neck at the last moment before engaging.

Finally he inspected, then belted on, his sword. Together, Wynn and<br >Voba fastened on his arm guards.

Zar picked up his helmet, then slid his shield onto his arm. It was<br >actually a combination of buckler and shield, in that it could be either slung on his arm by straps, or gripped in his left fist. As he’d<br >explained to Kirk, it was essential for parrying blows.

He glanced at Wynn. “Ready, my lady?”<br >

”Ready, my lord.”<br >

Together, they went out. Zar studied the sky, seeing a faint lightening<br >in the east. The air was filled with the soft ching of armor and weapons being fastened on, and the nervous snortings of the<br >battle-trained vykar. On the far side of the camp, he could hear faint clangs as two soldiers warmed up. His stomach tightened.<br >

”I hate the waiting,” he muttered, hardly aware that he’d spoken aloud.<br >

”The best thing to do is to stay busy,” Wynn told him, and drew her<br >sword. “Shall we warm up?”

Zar nodded, pulled off his cloak, then set his helmet on it.<br >

His sword slipped into his leather and steel-gauntleted hand as<br >naturally as breathing.

They touched blades in salute, then began slowly, gradually picking up<br >the tempo, not hurrying, just loosening muscles, sharpening reaction time.<br >

Forehand, backhand, parry, chop, thrust-Wynn, like the rest of her<br >people, had little experience with using the point, so when Zar’s blade touched her left breast even as he parried her swing, she halted.<br >”You’ll have to teach me to do that.”

”Gladly.” He spent a few minutes demonstrating, then they returned to<br >the drill.

”Now you try one,” he said, then deliberately left her an opening,<br >prepared to leap back and parry if she tried too forcefully.

Wynn thrust at him, but missed a vital spot. “You’ve got the idea,” he<br >said. “Now it just takes practice.”

She nodded, her face grim with concentration, then a second later her<br >steel touched his shoulder. “Much better!”

She stepped back. “I’d better stop while I’m ahead.”<br >

He sheathed his blade, then bowed slightly. “I enjoyed that,” he said.<br >”You’re good with a sword.”

”No, you’re good,” Wynn corrected him, movingclose. “I can handle<br >myself, but I’m not in your league. Especially now, with your leg healed.”<br >

Zar flexed his left thigh muscles cautiously, then nodded.<br >

”I’m trying not to put too many demands on it, but it feels wonderful to<br >move freely again.”

They had collected a ring of watchers. Wynn nodded at the soldiers<br >gathered around. “Even better is the effect on the troops,” she whispered. “Their spirits are high, now that half of the prophecy has<br >already been fulfilled.”

Zar had nearly forgotten the exact wording of Wynn’s vision until she<br >reminded him. Seeing Voba emerge from the command tent, he said, “The tent is empty, now. I don’t want to say our good-byes out here.”<br >

Once inside, he dropped the flap, extinguished the lamp in the predawn<br >grayness, and drew Wynn to him. He stood looking down at her, barely able to make out the pale blur that was her face. “We have only a few<br >minutes,” he whispered.

She touched his cheek. “So smooth,” she murmured.<br >

”How did you get it so smooth?”<br >

”Not with a blade,” he told her. “More ‘magic’ from my time aboard the<br >Enterprise. Do you like it?”

”I don’t know. I’ll need time to get used to it.”<br >

”Time …” He kissed her lightly. “If only we had more time … if<br >only I don’t-“

”Hush!” she cried, fiercely, her arms going up behind his neck. “Don’t<br >even say it. It’s not going to happen.”

”All right,” he whispered, and kissed her with slow, passionate<br >deliberation. She responded, holding him tightly, making a tiny noise in the back of her throat.<br >

When he finally pulled away, she frowned up at him.<br >

”Kissing while wearing armor is stupid,” she complained.<br >

”No fun at all.”<br >

”Then why are you breathing hard?”<br >

She laughed softly. “Already you know me too well.”<br >

Zar touched her cheek. “It’s time.”<br >

”Yes, I know.”<br >

Nursing a slashed arm against his side, the runner halted his heaving<br >vykar, then saluted awkwardly, lefthanded.

”Sire! Commander Zaylenz requests reinforcements.<br >

Rorgan’s archers have forced him to drop back, and his line is<br >weakening.”

Zar nodded. “Can you ride?”<br >

”Yes, sire.”<br >

”Then tell him we are right behind you.”<br >

The vykar leaped away.<br >

Zar beckoned to the next of the mounted runners who waited with him on<br >the slope. “Instruct Second Cletas to lead three companies of reserve infantry to support Commander Zaylenz’s line. Then find Commander<br >Yarlev and tell him to dispatch a troop of cavalry through the foothills for a rear attack on the Asyri flank. Tell both of them I am going<br >ahead immediately with a squad.”

”Yes, sire!” His vykar, fresh and skittish, went racing upslope to the<br >reserve units as though it might take flight.

Zar turned to find Voba at his elbow, holding out the reins of his<br >commander’s vykar. “Summon the guard. We can’t let them break through.”<br >

He took the reins and vaulted up, momentarily relishing the fact that he<br >hadn’t needed to order his mount to kneel.

Moments later he was trotting downslope, shield slung and sword drawn,<br >at the head of twenty infantry soldiers.

Rorgan and Laol’s forces had begun their attack about an hour after<br >dawn. Their chariots had splashed across the Redbank in seemingly unending waves, but the catapults and the pits had diminished their<br >numbers dramatically.

Still, there had been enough of them remaining to guard the enemy<br >i nfantry as they, in turn, made their crossing.

As Zar rode downhill, he studied the field. Laol’s forces were fighting<br >furiously on the left, but his people were holding them, even driving them back a little. But before him, he could see that the Asyri archers<br >were punishing the right flank of the Lakreo forces, which were slowly retreating upslope. Half a kilometer of ground between the Redbank and<br >the clashing armies was bare except for the bodies of the dead and wounded. Zaylenz’s troops were fighting bravely in ranks, in contrast<br >to the savage but disorganized clumps of the invaders-but they were clearly weakening.<br >

Zar signaled his mount to go faster as he saw the line grow thinner,<br >waver, then a man fell with a shriek, and the Asyri were pouring through.<br >

A second later Zar was in the middle of them, chopping hard at shoulders<br >and throats, as his vykar leaped and charged, swinging its homed head viciously. A lance struck him in the side, but was deflected by his<br >mail, then he caught another on his shield. A second later he felt something strike his left leg, and whirled in the saddlejust in time to<br >stab the man in his open mouth before the Asyri could swing again. Teeth rattled against the blade as he jerked it free.<br >

His leg seemed to be all right, Zar realized, relieved, even as he<br >automatically parried another Asyri’s swing, then kicked the man in the throat with his mailed foot. The Asyri warrior staggered back and went<br >down with a scream beneath the vykar’s stamping hooves.

By this time the squad of Lakreo soldiers had joined the melee, and for<br >several minutes the Sovren was too busy to think consciously. Despite their best efforts, they were still being driven back.<br >

Suddenly Zar’s mount stumbled on the rocky ground and fell, pinning an<br >Asyri beneath it. Zar freed his right leg and leapt clear as his vykar rolled over, crushing the man beneath it, then struggled back to its<br >feet. The Sovren saw that the creature was lame, and whacked it across the rump with the flat of his sword to get it out of the way. Startled,<br >it leaped upslope, and he lost sight of it immediately as he parried a low slash intended to hamstring him. A moment later his sword found the<br >soldier’s armpit, and there was another one he needn’t worry about again …<br >

Cut, thrust, parry, forehand, parry, backhand, parry, thrust again, then<br >step back, don’t skid in the muck or the blood …

Back-they were being forced back, up a steep slope on the far right side<br >of the battlefield …

Thrust, parry … step back … and back again …<br >

Zar was panting hard, but his arms still moved with sure precision, and<br >he was vaguely grateful for those weeks aboard the Enterprise, those hours in the gym. But for them, and McCoy’s healing his leg, he’d<br >probably have been down long before now.

”Stand back! Remember my orders! The demonspawn’s mine!”<br >

The roar in Asyri reached Zar as if from a great distance, faint<br >compared to the din of the battle, the blood pounding in his ears, his heaving gasps for breath. The Sovren glanced around, puzzled, seeing<br >that the Asyri warriors had drawn back into a rough circle, leaving him alone in the middle of it.<br >

As he fought for air, he saw a big man, as tall as he was and built like<br >a draft vykar, step out of the circle. Who is that? he wondered, without much curiosity, mostly concerried with trying to slow his<br >breathing. Then he saw that the man carried his sword in his left hand; where his right hand should have been was a round ball studded with<br >vicious spikes.

Rorgan DeathHand, Zar realized. The man responsible for the deaths of<br >Wynn’s husband and child.

Out of the comer of his eye he saw Voba and the remaining members of the<br >squad he’d led starting uphill toward him, and emphatically shook his head at his aide.<br >

No. Whatever he wants, this may buy us sufficient timefor Cletas and<br >Yarlev’s reinforcements to reach us.

As Voba and the rest stopped obediently, Zar wondered how the rest of<br >the battle was going. The only thing he was sure of was that Wynn was all right, since she was still there in the back of his mind, tucked<br >away like a secret talisman against fear and loneliness.

”Do you know me, demonspawn?” the Asyri leader bellowed hoarsely. “Even<br >a demon has the right to know who it is that kills him.”

Zar nodded silently, saving his breath, studying the way the other man<br >stood, checking his bronze armor for vulnerable points. The Asyri chieftain wore a helmet, cuirass, scaled kilt, greaves, and a bronze<br >arm-guard on his sword arm.

Rorgan addressed his troops. “I want the pleasure of killing him<br >myself. This is an honor duel, so anyone who interferes with either loser or winner dies! Understood?”<br >

The assembled Asyri warriors saluted. Idiot, Zar thought, dropping into<br >guard position, watching Rorgan as the Asyri leader moved toward him. In his place Id have me dispatched from behind in two seconds and be on my<br >way to New Araen. This single-combat, “he’s all mine” notion is a load of vykar The Asyri leader’s bronze sword hissed through the air.<br >

The Sovren leaped back, parrying the blow on his shield, then slashed<br >forehanded at Rorgan’s arm. The man twisted, avoiding the blade by a handspan, and the mace swung down. Zar ducked, feeling those wicked<br >spikes comb the plume on his helmet.

He may be a fool, but he’s fast, despite his size.<br >

They grappled for a moment, mace trapped against shield, blade against<br >blade, and for the first time Zar was close enough to get a glimpse of the blue eyes and unlined features beneath the shadow of the Asyri<br >leader’s helmet.

His heart sank. And young, too. Damn. I’ve got twenty-five years on<br >kim, probably.

The Asyri leader’s huge-muscled arms bulged even more as he forced Zar’s<br >shield arm down … down …

Goddess, but he’s strong …<br >

With a deafening, wordless shout, the Sovren brought his mailed foot<br >down hard on the other’s booted toe, then, as ROTgan yelped, leaped back and away.<br >

”You have no honor, demonspawn’ Stand and fight, coward!”<br >

Zar backed away, circling, his eyes never leaving his opponent’s. It<br >had been years since he’d fought a lefthanded opponent, and he had to adjust his stance accordingly. He couldn’t afford to forget the mace,<br >either. It was not only a formidable weapon, Rorgan could parry with it, too.<br >

”I heard you married that slut of a priestess,” the big man said, teeth<br >showing in the stubble of his beard as he grinned, “But then, your mother was a slut who bedded demons, so I guess you’re used to sluts,<br >aren’t you?”

Zar said nothing. Rorgan was trying to make him furious enough to<br >attack mindlessly, but the Sovren had no trouble ignoring the insults. I’m too old to fiall for that trick, he thought. And you’d realize<br >that, if you were smarter, and save your breath for fighting.

With a wild howl, the man charged, his mace impacting on Zar’s shield<br >with staggering force. Zar had no choice but to use his sword to parry the other’s cut. Their weapons whanged together, steel against bronze,<br >then slid down each other until they were hilt to hilt. The Sovren had to shift his forefinger quickly to avoid losing it as Rorgan’s blade<br >ground against his. And as he did so, he hooked his heel behind Rorgan’s and jerked upward with all his strength.<br >

The Asyri went over on his back, but before the Sovren could reach him<br >with a thrust, he rolled, coming up fast, his blade swinging in a deadly cut at Zar’s neck. The Sovren ducked, taking the blow on his right<br >shoulder, but the impact staggered him, and he nearly fell.

As he struggled to keep his feet, the mace punched into his side,<br >sending him to his knees. Agony lanced through him, and, for a blinding second, he couldn’t catch his breath. He saw motion out of the corner<br >of his eye and ducked, automatically backhanding with his sword ‘

Luck was with him; the edge of the blade caught the Asyri leader on the<br >thigh, biting deeply enough to wring an involuntary cry from Rorgan.

Zar gasped again, managing this time to catch his breath, though the air<br >stabbed his left side like a dagger. He lurched to his feet and scuttled backward, trying to flex his sword arm.<br >

”You’re going to die here,” Rorgan growled, advancing again, though he<br >was clearly limping now. “I’m going to rip your guts out with my bare hands and use them to hang you off your own walls!”<br >

Zar licked dry lips, stealing a glance at his surroundings.<br >

Where the hell is Cletas? For the first time, he realized that the<br >ground beneath his feet sloped downward on all sides to Moorgate Plain, where the battle still raged.<br >

I’m on a little hill … a hillock … just as Spock described it …<br >this is it, then, the moment that he saw … He eyed Rorgan’s mace. And that must be the impact weapon that kills me …<br >

The Asyri leader came in again, swinging the mace hard, even as he<br >slashed at his opponent’s legs with his sword. Zar ducked and leaped forward, parrying with his shield, then slammed it into the man’s<br >midsection. Rorgan’s breath went out with a grunt and he folded up at the waist so completely that they both went over onto the ground, with<br >Zar on top. They rolled from side to side, gasping, kicking, pounding at each other’s head and shoulders with the hilts of their swords.<br >

Suddenly Rorgan dropped his weapon and slammed his gauntleted palm<br >upward into Zar’s face. White-hot pain exploded in the Sovren’s eye and nose, and he dropped his sword, but he retained just enough presence of<br >mind not to take his weight off the mace that he had managed to pin beneath his shield.<br >

Gritting his teeth, the Sovren turned his head to the side and<br >repeatedly slammed his helmet into Rorgan’s face. The nose-guard of his helm protected the Asyri, but he jerked back involuntarily, shifting<br >positi on, and suddenly Zar was able to bring his knee up viciously into his enemy’s groin.<br >

The chieftain yowled in agony.<br >

The Sovren tried to follow up his advantage, but before he could draw<br >his dagger, Rorgan heaved beneath him and sent him tumbling over onto his back. Zar lurched to his I hands and knees, the air rasping his<br >lungs, his side stabbing fire, and scrabbled sideways for his sword, lying a meter away in the mud.<br >

Even as he touched it, the mace impacted with his left shoulder hard<br >enough to knock the buckler spinning from his grasp. Zar snatched up his sword and rolled away, but the Asyri had sagged back onto the<br >ground, groaning. Zar staggered to his feet, blinking, trying to see where his shield had fallen.<br >

Somethings wrong with my eye, he realized dazedly, and touched his face<br >with his free hand, noting detachedly that the fingers of his gauntlet came away bloody. He peered around him again, but could not find the<br >shield.

I can’t parr ‘ y without it, he thought desperately. One blow from that<br >damned mace will break my sword, The Asyri leader was also back on his feet again, but now he was hobbling, his face drawn with pain and rage.<br >”While you’re hung from your own walls, dying, demonspawn,” he wheezed, ”you can watch me with your slut. If you beg hard enough, I may be<br >merciful enough to kill her after I’m done.”

Rorgan came toward him, sword in hand, the mace held ready.<br >

Zar had been thinking fast. Only - v one chance, he decided.<br >

And it 71 leave me completely open to a head attack. 41fail, that mace<br >is going to do exactly what Spock described …

As Rorgan moved in, Zar backed quickly away, altering his grip on the<br >hilt of his sword, shifting to present his right side to the Asyri leader. He moved his left foot, turning it outward at a ninety-degree<br >angle so he could use it to push off-couldn’t have done this before-then, praying his aching shoulder would hold out, he leaped<br >forward onto his right foot, his body uncoiling in a full-extension lunge, just as Sulu had coached him.<br >

The sword-point plunged through the leather kilt, sinking deep into the<br >Asyri leader’s body. Rorgan dropped his weapon, staring down in shocked horror at himself as Zar pulled his blade free, then the chieftain’s<br >knees buckled, and he fell. Zar looked up, seeing the stunned expressions of the Asyri warriors, and, beyond them, Cletas and his<br >troops coming downslope.

”Coward … afraid to kill me, demonspawn … came a choked whisper<br >from his feet. The Sovren looked down to see Rorgan lying on his side, hands clamped to his belly, knees drawn up, writhing uncontrollably. Gut<br >wounds usually meant a particularly slow and agonizing death.

For a moment Zar relaxed his mind-shield slightly, and the agony the<br >Asyri was feeling flooded into him, making his knees buckle. Hastily, he shut out the other’s pain, positive now that Rorgan had indeed<br >received his death wound. But it would take him the rest of the day to die, probably.<br >

”Do you want me to?” the Sovren asked in Asyri, thinking that Wynn would<br >have something to say to him if he showed this man mercy. But he couldn’t condemn anyone to the suffering he’d experienced in his moment<br >of empathy with the chieftain.

Mad blue eyes glared up at him from a sweating, muddy face. “You… not<br >enough courage … to give me honorable death… demon …”

Zar sighed as he drew Zarabeth’s knife. “Don’t thank me, then,” he<br >muttered in his own language. “But I’m doing you a favor, and it’s going to get me into trouble with my wife.”<br >

Quickly, he pulled back the Asyri leader’s chin and drew the knife<br >across the top of the throat, making sure he slashed both the internal and external carotid arteries.<br >

Rorgan was dead by the time he’d retrieved his shield, halfway across<br >the circle. Zar brought his sword up into guard position, struggling to catch his breath, feeling the grandfather of all stitches in his side,<br >as he eyed the ring of warriors surrounding him. He began turning wearily in a slow circle. “Who’s next?” he called, in Asyri.<br >

Nobody seemed anxious to step forward. He let out a long sigh of relief<br >(which hurt). I can’t believe it, he thought. I’m still here. I’ve won. Now, if we can only Zar never fell the blow that struck the side<br >of his head, and sent him hurtling down into immediate and unending darkness.<br >

Chapter Fifteen<br >

SPOCK MATERIALIZED out of nothingness on a rocky, brushcovered slope<br >between two gigantic gray boulders. The Vulcan glanced around him, then gave a short, satisfied nod-the Guardian had, as requested, deposited<br >him in the foothills bordering Moorgate Plain. He wanted to survey the battlefield from a higher elevation, in an attempt to locate Zar’s<br >position. He knew where his son ought to be-but that was no guarantee that he was there. The Sovren had planned to personally lead the first<br >wave of reinforcement troops, so he could be anywhere along the front lines.<br >

Spock had no difficulty locating the battle itself, even though he could<br >not see it.

In the first place, he could hear it-the clang of weapons, the shrieks<br >of wounded people and animals, war-cries filled with terror or triumph-even from some distance away, it was an appalling din, and the<br >closer he drew, the more ear-shattering it became.

But the sound, horrible as it was, was as nothing compared to the<br >smell-the mingled stench of blood, excrement, vomit, and death. The Vulcan nearly gagged the first time he rounded a boulder and almost<br >stumbled over the sprawled body of a soldier, guts trailing behind him for meters, who was covered in a living curtain of insects that rose,<br >buzzing angrily, from their feast.

He swallowed hard, clenching his teeth. Clamping down iron control,<br >Spock stepped around the body and moved on, holding his lirpa at the ready.<br >

He emerged from the foothills at the lower edge of the plain, not far<br >from the Redbank, and for a moment stood staring in horror at the battleground before him. Moorgate Plain was a roiled sea of mud,<br >smashed chariots, and bodies-animal and human, living and dead.

Spock had seen war and its results; had picked his way through colonies<br >devastated by Klingon or Romulan attack, had ministered to dull-eyed refugees who were literally more dead than alive. But war in his time<br >was usually cleaner. Phasers and disruptors killed instantly, neatly vaporizing the bodies.<br >

The main fighting was still some distance ahead of him, near the<br >mountain pass leading to New Araen. Storm clouds shouldered their way over the peak of Big Snowy as Spock began trotting toward the conflict,<br >constantly scanning the horizon for a certain hillock, one forever fixed in his memory.<br >

Often, he had to slow to a walk, trying to pick a way through the maze<br >of caved-in pits, spilled entrails, gutted bodies, and weapons, some still clutched in severed hands or arms.<br >

Whenever possible, he detoured around the bodies, but in places they<br >were piled waist-and even shoulder-high, and he was forced to use the buffeting end of the lirpa to roll enough of them out of the way so he<br >could step over them.

And the worst of it was, not all of them were dead.<br >

”I’m sorry,” he murmured, the first time an armored figure clawed at his<br >boot, begging for water. Her shoulder was a hacked ruin. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any.”<br >

He moved on, trying not to hear them. But it was impossible. “Water,”<br >they pleaded or demanded, mostly, and sometimes, “help me,” or “kill me.” Some spoke in languages he did not know, but he understood their<br >meaning anyway.

One wounded man, maddened by pain, lunged at the Vulcan with a halberd,<br >and Spock had to use the lirpa to knock him aside.

He was getting closer to the battle; the clang of weapons was louder,<br >mixed now with the gathering rumble of thunder. And still he had not identified the little rise where Zar would fall.<br >

Or had fallen.<br >

Or was even now falling.<br >

The Vulcan tried to go faster, slipping and skidding in the greasy muck<br >that seemed to be composed of equal parts mud and spilled blood. It didn’t help that the blood was almost the color of his own.<br >

He found that he had to check some of the little hills from several<br >different angles, which slowed him down further. I may be too late … even now, I may be loo late. - .<br >

He was on the fringes of the fighting now, and several times had to<br >defend himself for a moment before he could run. But he was not wearing armor, and offered no challenge, so most of the combatants simply<br >ignored him.

Which hill? There are so many. I’m on the side o thefield If where Zar<br >was supposed to be directing the Lakreoforces, but suppose he crossed over to the other side? Am I too late?<br >

Spock could tell that Zar’s forces were being driven back, but the<br >retreat was controlled, orderly. The Lakreo, and Danregforces are inflicting heavy damage. If they can hold out long enough, they stand a<br >chance of winning.

He staggered and slid in the muck, catching himself with the lirpa.<br >Which hill? They all look the same!

As he stared, a voice echoed in his mind Straight ahead.<br >

Hurry. Such was the ring of authority in those warm, ringing tones that<br >the Vulcan began to obey, even before he recognized the identity of the mind-touch.<br >

The Guardian! But how can it know?<br >

Still, he had no other guide, so he forged straight ahead, running hard<br >now.

Which way, Guardian? he thought, as he passed another hillock, his<br >breath catching fire in his chest.

To your kft. Harry. Hurry.<br >

Spock bore left, trying to pick up his pace despite the rocks underfoot.<br >He was in the midst of the front lines, but, strangely, many of the troops in this portion of the field were not fighting. Instead, knots<br >of soldiers from both sides huddled in small groups with their comrades, staring up a t one of the little hills. Spock zigzagged around them,<br >anxiously scanning the ground to his left-nothing …

nothing, am I too late?<br >

There! The one they’re all staring at! That’s the one!<br >

Unwrapping the ahn-woon from around his waist, Spock dropped the lirpa<br >and raced toward the hillock he’d recognized, putting on a burst of speed that made his heart feel as if it were about to explode. He could<br >hear shouts of encouragement and the sounds of a struggle as he reached its foot, then, as he began to climb, all sounds abruptly ceased.<br >

Gasping, the Vulcan scrambled the last few meters, finding himself on<br >the edge of a circle of warriors. An armed figure stood in the middle of that circle, dripping sword up and ready, clutching a small, battered<br >shield. Spock could not see the man’s face, but from his stance and his chain mail, the Vulcan recognized ZarA blood-drenched body lay sprawled<br >at his feet. Spock heard his son call out a phrase in a language he did not recognize, then the Sovren pivoted slowly around.<br >

As Zar’s back appeared, Spock glimpsed a flash of movement to his own<br >left-one of the Asyri warriors leaped forward, axe raised high, his movement the same as the one the Vulcan had witnessed on the screen of<br >his tricorder.

”No!” The Vulcan knocked startled enemy soldiers aside as though they<br >were straw men, and lunged after the Asyri.

With every bit of skill he had in him, Spock lashed out with the<br >ahn-woon, his target the warrior’s raised weapon-and missed.

The ahn-woon whipped around the man’s neck, instead, and even as the<br >Vulcan jerked back on it, the flat of the axehead impacted with the Sovren’s red-plumed helmet.<br >

The blow echoed in Spock’s mind, as he saw Zar half whirled around with<br >its force, glimpsed his son’s bloody face, heard him grunt as the breath went out of him.<br >

Zar’s knees buckled … he fell forward … to lie, unmoving.<br >

A dreadful calm settled over Spock. I’ve failed. To come this close<br >andfail …

Absently, he looked down at the man he had pulled down, seeing that he<br >was dead. The body was still twitching, but the Asyri’s neck was obviously broken.<br >

I did not intend to kill him … Spock thought, dully, but he could not<br >summon any remorse for his action.

The handle of the ahn-woon slid out of his numb fingers, and he left it<br >where it fell. Blindly, the Vulcan pushed his way through the Lakreo troops that were suddenly milling about, crowding the top of the little<br >hillock.

As he reached the sprawled figure, Spock saw the dent in the right side<br >of the battered steel helmet. He dropped to his knees beside his son’s still body, and, gently but hopelessly, rolled him over onto his back.<br >The face that came into view was a gory greenish mask, the right eye puffed nearly shut, the mouth split, the nose swollen and canted. Blood<br >trickled from one nostril in a thin, steady stream …

Blood trickled …<br >

Blood trickled…<br >

Spock stared unbelievingly at the blood, watching it well, then drip If<br >he’s bleeding, he’s still alive!

Hastily, he slipped a finger beneath the edge of Zar’s helmet and<br >touched his temple. He sensed the low-level mental activity even as he felt the pulse-weak and thready, but there! He put a hand over his<br >son’s mouth and nose, and after a moment, warm breath brushed his palm.

A gauntleted hand seized his wrist and yanked it away, even as a voice<br >snapped, “What the hell do you think you’re-“

Spock looked up, seeing that it was Cletas who had grabbed him. The<br >Second stared at him, then let go. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize who you were.”<br >

”He’s alive,” Spock said, reaching for his tricorder.<br >

”Yes, I see,” Cletas agreed, crouching on his heels beside the Vulcan.<br >”Dead men don’t bleed.”

”We have to take him to safety.” Spock glanced up, to find Voba kneeling<br >across from them. He studied the tricorder’s readings. “Concussion … possibly serious. He could go into shock, especially with the ground<br >this cold and damp.

We’ll need a stretcher.”<br >

Voba snapped out an order to one of the Lakreo guards, and the woman<br >saluted, then raced off.

I had better get that armor off, so he can breathe, the Vulcan thought.<br >He began fumblingly to unfasten Zar’s helmet, but the red-haired aide-de-camp gently pushed his hand away. “I’ll do that, Sir. I’m used<br >to it. “So much for the prophecy,” Cletas muttered, glancing at the troops milling around them. “Damn it all, we were holding them …”<br >he began swearing, a profane litany in a language Spock didn’t understand.<br >

”What prophecy?” the Vulcan asked.<br >

Cletas busied himself helping Voba unlace the sides of the Sovren’s<br >byrnie. “Wynn’s oracle,” he said, distractedly.

”She pronounced it to the enemy troops the afternoon before we captured<br >her-‘if he who is halt walks healed, if he who is death-struck in battle rises whole, then Ashmara will turn her face from us’-meaning that,<br >unless he wakes up and walks out there, we’ve had it. If our troops think he’s dead-and the word that he’s fallen will be spreading like<br >wildfire, it always does-that’s going to take the spirit right out of them. The invaders will run over us like the Redbank in flood.”<br >

”If he who is halt …” Spock repeated, slowly. “But half the<br >prophecy has already been fulfilled. Zar is no longer lame.”

”Right enough,” Voba said, “but now he’s got to stand up and walk out<br >there, where they can all see him … and there’s no way that’s going to happen-even if he lives, he’ll not be on his feet for days.”<br >

Spock, his mind racing, thought of the silently staring faces, defender<br >and invader alike, and an idea came to him.

The Vulcan met Cletas’s gaze squarely. “Suppose he does stand up and<br >walk out there?”

”But he-” The Second’s eyes widened as sudden understanding flowed<br >between them like a current. “Yes! By Ashmara, it could work!” He turned his head and shouted, “Guards! Guards! Stand close, here,<br >shoulder to shoulder.

On the double! I want a complete circle.”<br >

Quickly, they were surrounded, walled in, by soldiers.<br >

Cletas snatched up the blood-smeared helm. “Here, put this on. No-wait,<br >you’ll need mail first. Nobody will notice the breeches, but the mail-“

With frantic haste, he began ripping at the lacings of his own byrnie.<br >”Voba, where’s his red cloak?”

”I have it,” the little aide said, calmly.<br >

The Second dragged his byrnie, then his padded undergarment, over his<br >head. Cletas shivered as fat raindrops spattered onto his bare shoulders. “Put this on. Don’t bother lacing, you’ll have the cloak to<br >cover it. Here.” He thrust the mail shirt and the quilted leather at the Vulcan.<br >

Spock pulled the shirt, followed by the byrnie, over his head. He rose<br >to his feet, feeling the unaccustomed weight of the armor settle onto his shoulders. “How should I do this?”<br >

”Just stand there on the hillside and let them notice you,” Cletas said,<br >pointing, holding out the battered helmet.

”Then take off the helm and let them see your face. The cloak, Voba.”<br >

The aide swung the red folds around Spock’s shoulders.<br >

”You’re thinner,” Cletas fussed, pulling the mail into place.<br >

”From a distance, nobody will notice that,” Voba said, sounding<br >positive. “Here’s the sword, sir.”

As Spock eased the scarlet-plumed helmet over his head, the aide hastily<br >buckled Zar’s swordbelt around him.

Cletas growled a soft order at the surrounding guards, and they all<br >snapped to attention, saluting, as Spock stepped between two of them, out from behind the screen of armored bodies.<br >

Several of the Asyri captives gasped when they saw him.<br >

Trying to imitate Zar’s walk, Spock strode boldly over to the side of<br >the hill and stood there, silhouetted against the livid, dark-clouded sky, the scarlet cloak whipping behind him in the gusty wind. Thunder<br >rumbled ominously.

He had been there only a few seconds when somebody noticed him and<br >pointed, then an uncertain cheer began rising from the Lakreo forces. Spock waited another beat, then pulled off the helmet, tucking it under<br >his left arm.

The cheer strengthened as more and more of the troops turned to look up,<br >until it flowed up to him in waves of deafening jubilation. The Vulcan could see the Asyri and Kerren forces hesitate, then begin pointing up<br >at him, obviously frightened. They’re almost ready to flee, he thought. ButIneedsomethingelse. Jimhasaflairfiyrthe dramatic. What would he<br >do?

The answer came to him immediately, and he grasped the sticky hilt of<br >the sword at his left hip, then drew it, holding the stained blade high in salute.<br >

”Victory!” Spock shouted, so loudly his throat hurt.<br >

A white crack of jagged lightning split the sky above him, followed a<br >moment later by a deafening clap of thunder.

The enemy troops broke and ran.<br >

”Easy, now,” Voba cautioned. “Just slide him off, don’t lift him.”<br >

Gently, Spock and the guards moved Zar’s unconscious body onto the bed,<br >then the aide dismissed the two soldiers.

”Now let’s see the rest of the damage,” the little man muttered,<br >expertly slitting the quilted leather padding with his knife and peeling it off gently.<br >

”You’ve done this before, I take it,” Spock observed.<br >

”I can assign a battle to most of these scars,” Voba told the Vulcan<br >grimly. “Hmm … no cuts … will you look at both shoulders … and the ribs … ouch, he won’t be able to do much with that new wife of<br >his for awhile, will he?”

the little man mumbled, mostly to himself.<br >

”He took quite a beating,” Spock said, eyeing the huge, emerald bruises<br >and wondering where Zar had put the medical kit McCoy had spoken of giving him.<br >

Voba snorted indignantly. “He gave every bit as good as he got. If<br >Rorgan weren’t lying there dead, he’d look worse … and his wives would be lucky if he was ever any good to them again.”<br >

Spock’s mouth t witched, and he hastily cleared his throat.<br >

”You watched the fight?”<br >

”We could see most of it, from where we stood upslope.”<br >

Voba smiled reminiscently. “That was a fight, that was.”<br >

The door opened, and Wynn limped in, still wearing her armor. Blood had<br >sprayed onto her face like darker greenish freckles, and the front of her mail was dull with it, but she seemed relatively unhurt, except for<br >a stained rag knotted around her knee.

”How is he?” she asked, moving to Zar’s side.<br >

”I was just taking a good look at him,” Voba said. “He’s been out like<br >a pinched candlewick ever since he was hit, over an hour ago, now.”

Wynn gently parted Zar’s hair and examined the swollen lump on the right<br >side of his head, careful not to touch it.

”Hmm.” She rested her fingers on the pulse at his throat, then peeled<br >back each eyelid to watch the pupil dilate, and finally lifted his upper lip to check the color of his gums.<br >

”Hmmm.” Her brisk, unemotional manner reminded Spock vividly of Leonard<br >McCoy.

”For the moment, his lifelink is steady,” she pronounced, glancing up at<br >them. “I wish McCoy were here. Or can you use the box-that-whirrs, Spock? The one that sees inside a body?”<br >

”I already did,” Spock answered. “And it agreed with you. He is in no<br >immediate danger.”

She looked pleased. “But we need to get this swelling down. Voba, send<br >someone up to the high pastures on Big Snowy to bring back a big bag of ice and snow. Until then, we’ll use cold-water compresses.”<br >

The aide scowled conspiratorially at the Vulcan. “Are healers where you<br >come from as bossy, Sir?” he whispered.

Spock nodded. “It appears to be a universal trait.”<br >

Voba left, muttering under his breath.<br >

Wynn was pulling off her armor, wincing as she bent over to take off her<br >greaves. “Are you all right?” Spock said.

”Not bad,” she grunted, struggling to pull her bymie over her head<br >without unlacing it. “Shallow cut, but it bled a lot … lucky … any deeper, and I’d have been hamstrung …”<br >

Wynn dropped the mail with the rest of her armor and disappeared next<br >door, where he heard her snapping orders at someone, then she returned, minus her kilt, wearing a clean gray homespun skirt and a thin white<br >linen shirt. She rolled the sleeves up briskly, poured water from the ewer into the basin, then began scrubbing her face, hands, and arms.<br >

Spock watched her, surprised, and she must have picked up his reaction<br >because she explained, “My teacher, Clarys, was the greatest healer my people ever had. One of the first things she taught me was that disease<br >demons are attracted by dirt.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “That is one way of putting it,” he conceded.<br >”Was it she who discovered that cold brings down swelling?”

”No, that remedy has been around for generations,” Wynn said, drying her<br >hands, then returning to the bed. “I’d better wash his face before he wakes. It’s going to hurt him.”<br >

She stood looking down at her husband for a moment, and for an instant<br >Spock glimpsed a break in her cool, professional demeanor. “Thank Ashmara he’s alive,” she whispered, gently brushing his hair off his<br >forehead. Then she straightened, all business once more. “Would you hand me that soap, please?”<br >

”I know of something that would be even better than soap for driving<br >away disease demons,” Spock said. “It was in a bag,” he measured off a space with his hands, “black in color, and Zar would have brought it<br >back from the Enterprime. ” He raised an eyebrow. “Did he tell you about the ship?”<br >

”The space-wagon that flies between stars,” Wynn said, nodding. “And I<br >remember the bag you speak of. It’s in the weapons cabinet.” She pointed.<br >

Spock located the medical bag, took out the medical tricorder and<br >antiseptic solution. He opened the latter, then handed it to Wynn. “Use this.”<br >

She sniffed the container skeptically, wrinkling her nose.<br >

”Strong stuff.”<br >

”Disease demons cannot abide it,” Spock said, perfectly straight-faced.<br >

”I believe it.” She poured some of the solution onto the bleached cloth<br >she’d produced. “Stand ready, please. This may bring him around, and he must not be allowed to get up. He’d only faint, and perhaps injure<br >himself worse, falling.”

”I understand.” Spock watched as she began cleaning the blood and filth<br >off Zar’s face, her touch sure and delicate.

”What makes you think he will try to get up?”<br >

She gave him a sideways glance. “Male patients usually behave in either<br >of two ways One, they’re such babies that you want to shove them out ofbed after hearing them whine and complain for ages; or, two, you have<br >to sit on them to prevent them from trying to get up, so they can take care of everything they think is going wrong during their absence.<br >

I’ll wager this one is the ‘let me up’ kind, but, of course, I could be<br >wrong.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Surely female patients are not always<br >reasonable.”

”They’re not as apt to make fools of themselves by trying to get up<br >immediately, but it’s hard to make most of them rest long enough,” she said. “The minute they begin to feel better, they get up, do too much,<br >then end up relapsing.”

By now Zar’s face was clean enough so that Spock could see the cut above<br >his eye that had caused much of the bleeding. He’ll have a scar beneath that eyebrow. The skin around both of Zar’s eyes was already turning<br >greenishblack, and both lips were split.

The Vulcan examined the revealed features closely. “His nose is<br >broken.”

Wynn nodded. “When the swelling goes down, I’ll try to straighten it<br >out. It’s going to leave a bump, though.” Her patient stirred, then groaned. “He’s coming around. Watch him.” She hurried across the room<br >to the washstand to empty the bloody antiseptic solution out of the basin and bring it back to the opposite side of the bed from Spock.<br >

Zar’s head turned restlessly on the pillow, then the less swollen of his<br >eyelids lifted, and he squinted up at his father. When he finally spoke, his voice was a thready, stuffy-nosed wheeze. “I dew it … I’m<br >dead ‘n gone to Hell, right?”

The Vulcan hid his profound relief with an exaggerated sigh. “Very<br >funny. How do you feel?”

”Terrible … can’t see bery well … can’t breathe bery well …<br >hurts all over …”

”That is because you have two black eyes and a broken nose, a broken<br >rib, plus numerous bruises, contusions, and a moderately severe concussion. But it seems as though you will recover.”<br >

The gray eye blinked, then sharpened suddenly. “The battle! By …<br >my troops! Got … got to go see-” Panting, Zar began pushing himself up, trying to swing his legs to the side.<br >

”No, ” Spock commanded, hastily locating two relatively unbruised areas<br >and holding the patient down. “The battle is over. Your people won. And you are not going anywhere.”<br >

”But- “Lie still, or you’ll get sick,” Wynn admonished. She gave the<br >Vulcan an “I-told-you-so” look.

”Wynn?” Zar whispered, putting out a hand. She gripped it. “Is there<br >anything I can get you, my dear?”

He tried to swallow. “Water … so thirsty. We really won?” His good<br >eye peered incredulously at first one, then the other of them as they nodded. “Casualties?”<br >

”Remarkably light,” Spock said. “Cletas is handling things in your<br >absence. He said to tell you not to worry.”

”Remember … fighting … trying to hold Zaylenz’s line.” Zar<br >frowned. “My vykar was lame … is he all right?”

His wife shook her head. “I don’t know. But I promise I’ll ask Cletas<br >to check,” she assured him. “Here … just a few sips.”

Zar gulped the water thirstily, then made a face when Wynn took the<br >goblet away. “Rorgan and Laol?”

”Heideon captured Laol,” Wynn said. “And you killed Rorgan yourself, in<br >an honor-duel, so they tell me.”

”I did? Was that when I broke my dose … nose?”<br >

Gingerly, he reached up to touch his face, but Wynn prevented him.<br >

Spock nodded.<br >

”Too bad …” Zar mumbled. “Always was proud of this nose.” His<br >battered mouth twisted into a lopsided smile.

”Inherited it from m’ old man y’see . .<br >

He passed out again.<br >

Spock hunted through the medical kit and found an ampule of tri-ox.<br >”This will help him breathe,” he told Wynn, as he pressed the hypo to Zar’s shoulder.<br >

The patient recovered consciousness almost immediately.<br >

”Th’ battle …” he said, seeming more alert than before.<br >

”Who won?”<br >

”We did.” Wynn smiled at him. “A complete victory.”<br >

Zar relaxed slightly. “Good …”<br >

”Do you remember fighting with Rorgan?” she asked.<br >

”I did?” The gray eye was puzzled. “Oh, yes … He started to nod,<br >but quickly stopped himself. “Remember bits ‘n’ pieces …” He looked sideways at Wynn, suddenly contrite. “I gave him a merciful<br >death.”

She shrugged. “We all make mistakes.” Spock could not tell whether she<br >was being sarcastic.

Zar grimaced. “… starting to come back. Tell Hikaru the fencing<br >practice … came in handy. Used that lunge …”

He sighed. “And tell McCoy … I kept his leg safe …” The gray<br >eye began to close. “My sword?”

”I brought it back,” Spock said. “Voba put it away.”<br >

”Good …” Zar lapsed into quiet for such a long time that the<br >Vulcan thought he had passed out again, or fallen asleep, but then he stirred and muttered, “The battle …<br >

who won?”<br >

”You did,” Spock said, but Zar did not respond. The Vulcan cast a<br >concerned glance over at Wynn.

She answered his unspoken question softly. “Happens all the time with<br >blows to the head. They’re confused at first, and their memories are patchy.”<br >

The Vulcan took out the medical tricorder and scanned its readings<br >again. They reassured him slightly. There was no internal bleeding, no skull fracture … but his son’s disorientation worried Spock.<br >

Wynn leaned over to place a cold compress on the side of Zar’s head, and<br >the little instrument’s readings altered abruptly as they registered her metabolism. Spock’s eyes widened, then he deliberately scanned her<br >again, his eyebrow rising. A faint smile touched his mouth.

The cold cloth roused the patient again. “Ouch …” Zar looked over<br >at Spock. “What’re you smirking about?”

”Vulcans,” Spock said placidly, with utmost dignity, never smirk.<br >Incidentally, congratulations. To both of YOU.”

Wynn gave him a puzzled glance. “On our victory?”<br >

”Among other things,” Spock said enigmatically, shutting off the<br >tricorder and putting it back in the medical kit.

Zar seemed about to pursue the matter, but a sudden thought occurred to<br >him and he struggled to get up again.

”The wounded! Got to check whether they’re-“<br >

”No, ” Spock and Wynn said together, holding him down until he finally<br >surrendered, gasping.

”Are you going to lie still now, you fool?” Wynn scolded.<br >

Sweat beaded her husband’s face as he nodded meekly, then he paled,<br >gulped ominously, put a hand to his mouth and mumbled, “Feel as if I’m going to-“<br >

”I warned you,” Wynn told him, with a grim smile, and held his head over<br >the basin.

Spock awoke the next morning to find Voba putting another log on the<br >fire. He straightened up stiffly, realizing that he’d fallen asleep in the chair beside the fireplace. His time sense assured him that it was<br >still early.

Across the room Zar was asleep, breathing much more normally. Wynn sat<br >cross-legged at the foot of the bed, her back braced against the bedpost, her chin drooping as she dozed. They’d taken turns rousing<br >their patient at intervals throughout the night, to make sure he could be awakened, but at some point weariness had obviously overcome both of<br >them.

His back protested as Spock stood up. Voba was watching him. “How<br >about some breakfast, sir?”

The Vulcan realized that he was extremely hungry; he’d forgotten to eat<br >yesterday. “Yes, thank you, I would appreciate that. No meat, please. Cereal, or bread and cheese …<br >

fruit-any of those would be welcome. Actually,” Spock admitted, “they<br >would all be welcome. I am very hungry.”

”Right away, sir.”<br >

As Voba left, Wynn stirred, rubbed her eyes, mumbled something Spock<br >took to be a greeting, then went into her adjoining room. The Vulcan took the opportunity to stretch the kinks out of his back, then used one<br >of the jugs of melted ice-water to wash up.

He felt better for being clean, and the cold water cleared the last of<br >the sleep from his mind. Spock walked over to look down at Zar. The snow and ice compresses had helped; though still pale and bruised, his<br >son looked much more like himself. He was obviously in a normal sleep.

The Vulcan touched his arm gently. “Zar?”<br >

Both eyelids rose, then the gray eyes widened. -FatheO What are you<br >doing here?”

”Good morning,” Spock said. “Are you hungry?”<br >

Zar nodded absently, as if surprised to discover that he was. “You were<br >here yesterday, weren’t you? I remember you telling me we won.” He blinked. “And you held me down.”<br >

”Yes, I did. You appear better this morning.”<br >

”I am. Will you tackle me again if I try to sit up ?”<br >

The Vulcan hesitated. “I think that would be all right. If you take it<br >slowly.”

Stiffly, his son pushed himself up, stifling a groan as he moved his<br >ribcage. Spock hastily placed another pillow behind his back to support him. “Things were so strange, yesterday …” Zar frowned. “I<br >couldn’t think rationally most of the time. I remember asking you questions and not understanding the answers.”<br >

”Do you remember the battle, now? The fight with Rorgan?”<br >

”Dimly. But,” he looked over at the Vulcan, bewildered, you’re not<br >supposed to be here! Why did you come back?”

”To save your life, my dear,” Wynn said, emerging from the connecting<br >door and crossing the room with her long, decisive stride. This morning she wore boots, breeches, and a sleeveless jerkin of tan leather. “If<br >it hadn’t been for him, my unfortunate prophecy would have come true.”

Zar stared at her, then turned to look at Spock while Wynn leaned over<br >to feel her patient’s forehead, peer into his eyes, and check his pulse. As she straightened up, her husband caught her hand and pulled her down<br >to sit on the bed beside him. “Don’t go. I want you right here,” he ordered, his fingers tight around hers. “Now, tell me what happened.”<br >

Wynn launched into an account of the battle and the events following the<br >fight with Rorgan DeathHand.

When she finished, Zar sat staring at the Vulcan in silence for a long<br >time. Finally he said, “If there’s a logical reason for your actions yesterday, I’d like to know what it is.”<br >

Spock looked down. “I told you before that I’ve discovered that some<br >things transcend logic. This was one of them.”

”But the timestream! If I was meant to die yesterday, didn’t your<br >action compromise its integrity?”

The Vulcan shook his head. “I do not believe so. Changes made in the<br >distant past-and 5,000 years is fairly distant -tend to be smoothed out over the years. The Mordreaux equations show that one’s ability to<br >alter events in the past is inversely proportional to the square of the distance in time one travels.”<br >

Zar shut his eyes for a moment, obviously visualizing the equation.<br >Finally, he nodded. “I see that, yes …”

”Besides,” Spock continued, “my examination of the timestream, as I<br >told you, showed peace coming to the Lakreo Valley, and I doubt that your continued presence will change that destiny.” The Vulcan raised an<br >ironic eyebrow. “Or will you take advantage of your new, ‘supernatural’ ability to return from the dead, and wage wars of aggression against<br >your neighbors?”

His son shook his head, ruefully. “You know better than that.”<br >

Spock nodded. “Yes, I do. But the main reason for my action was that I<br >found that I could not stand by, that I had to try and help. Actually,” he shrugged again, selfdeprecatingly, “I missed with the ahn-woon. So,<br >while I may have deflected that axe slightly, I suspect it was the mail hood that saved your life, not any action of mine.”<br >

”But if you and Wynn hadn’t warned me, I wouldn’t have put on that extra<br >armor,” Zar pointed out.

Voba chose that moment to arrive with the food, and they ate in silence.<br >After his aide-de-camp had removed the dishes, Zar questioned him as to the status of the Lakreo wounded, was assured that Cletas and Heldeon<br >had everything well in hand, then thanked the little man for his report. ”I don’t know what I’d do without you, Voba, I really don’t.”<br >

The aide colored, mumbled something inaudible, then beat a hasty<br >retreat. “He’s always been like that,” Zar observed, with a faint smile. “I wanted to make him Third-in-War a couple of years ago, but he<br >refused. Said if I didn’t have someone to took after me, I wouldn’t last through the next winter. But he’d rather I just took him for<br >granted, rather than thank him.”

He turned his head to took squarely at Spock. “Are you going to let me<br >thank you? I owe you …” his hand squeezed Wynn’s, “more than my life. More than anything you did for me personally, when you<br >impersonated me, you saved my people.”

Spock allowed himself a faint smile. “Some of the credit for that<br >belongs to Cletas. Without his help-and his armor-I could not have done it. I merely provided the …<br >

image. The doppelganger.”<br >

Zar chuckled a little. “I wish I could’ve seen that. I’ll bet some of<br >those Asyri are still running. My reputation as the undying son of a demon is now so entrenched that I doubt I’ll have any trouble with the<br >neighboring tribes or clans for a long time.”

The Vulcan nodded. “So now you can do more of what you wanted to<br >do-teach, develop that printing press, and the paper to use in it-those things, instead of fighting continually.”<br >

”I’ll probably always have to do more fighting than I care to, but<br >you’re right. Besides,” he gave Wynn a sidelong glance, “I’m thinking about abdicating in favor of my consort, here. I’ll let her give the<br >orders, since she’s so good at it.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I refuse to do all the work, my lord.<br >Besides, in two days you’d be itching to take back the reins.”

Spock rose to his feet. “I would like to stay longer, but I must return<br >to my ship. It will not take the admiral long to realize that I have gone, and where. The last time I left without orders he threatened to<br >push me out the airlock without a vacuum suit if I ever did it again.”

Wynn slid off the bed and walked around it to face the Vulcan.<br >”Farewell, Father-kin,” she said, softly, her green eyes shining. “I will miss you. May Ashmara hold you in Her hand, always. And thank<br >you.”

Spock gave her a formal salute. “Peace and long life, Lady Wynn.”<br >

She nodded, then addressed Zar without turning her head. “And you, my<br >dear lord … don’t you dare get up, understand?” Then she was gone, the connecting door shutting behind her.<br >

The Vulcan watched her leave, his mouth twitching slightly. “At times,<br >she reminds me of a cross between Leonard McCoy and James T. Kirk.”

His son smiled ruefully. “Frightening, isn’t it? I’ll tell you one<br >thing … wild vykar couldn’t drag me out of this bed until she gives me permission. I shudder to think what she’d do.”<br >

”Were you serious about abdicating?”<br >

The Sovren shrugged. “I don’t know. If I thought I could do so<br >successfully, I’d abdicate in a minute. But that wouldn’t be fair to Wynn. I suspect I’ll be trapped here, doing a job I don’t like, for the<br >rest of my days.

”But I decided before I left the Enterprise that if I made it through<br >that battle, things were going to be different, and they will be. I can gradually shift some of the load onto Wynn’s shoulders-and I’m going to<br >insist t hat the Council take a bigger part in the day-to-day business of governing.”<br >

He glanced up at Spock. “Listen to me-I’m talking just to keep you<br >here, which isn’t fair.”

”I asked,” the Vulcan said, simply. He took a deep breath.<br >

”I wish I could stay, but you know that I cannot.”<br >

Zar sighed, nodding. “I’m already missing you . I’ll …<br >

we’ll … never see each other again, will we?”<br >

”No,” Spock said, hearing the roughness in his own voice.<br >

”No, knowing the restrictions placed on the use of the Guardian, I<br >cannot imagine that we will. I … regret …

that.”<br >

”So do U’ Zar drew a long, shaky breath. “I … oh, damn, this is<br >hard, isn’t it?”

Yes.”<br >

Spock swallowed, then silently held out his hand. Zar gripped it, and<br >for a second, the words they could not speak aloud surged between them.

Then the Vulcan gave a slight backward pull, and the hard, calloused<br >fingers clenched around his immediately let go. He glanced up, met the gray eyes one final time, then nodded. “Farewell, son. Peace and long<br >life.”

”Farewell, Father.” Zar had to pause for a second. “Live long and<br >prosper.”

Spock did not trust himself to look back as he strode forward, feeling<br >the Guardian’s time-displacement seize him. A heartbeat later he was standing on Gateway’s chill, sterile soil, hearing that eternal, moaning<br >wind.

The Vulcan stood in silence for several minutes, then he took his<br >tricorder out, aiming it at the time portal’s central opening. ”Guardian,” he said, “thank you for helping me save him.”<br >

”He is my friend,” the time-entity said, its inner glow awakening. “Have<br >you a request, Spock of Vulcan?”

”Yes. Please show me the history of the planet Sarpeidon.”<br >

As the scenes began flashing before him, this last time, Spock stood<br >with his head bowed, not trying to watch, letting the tricorder run until the final nova-burst of energy.<br >

”Thank you, Guardian.”<br >

”You are welcome.”<br >

Then, mechanically, he turned off the instrument, took his communicator<br >out of his pocket, flipped it open. “Spock to Enterprise. I am requesting beam-up.”<br >

Kirk’s voice emanated from the little speaker, surprisingly gentle.<br >”Spock? You sound … are you all right?”

The Vulcan swallowed. “I will be, Jim.” He turned to look back through<br >the Guardian, seeing in his mind’s eye Zar’s face, envisioning Wynn beside him … knowing he was no longer so desperately alone.<br >

Good-bye, my son…<br >

The transporter beam caught him, wrenching him into his component<br >sub-atomic particles and waves, then he was gone.

Epilogue JAMEs T. KIRK raised his snifter of Saurian brandy. “A<br >toast,” he said. “To absent friends.” And sons, he added silently, as the liquor slid over his tongue, warm and heady.<br >

Spock and McCoy gravely raised their glasses and drank.<br >

The three officers were sitting in the small lounge area in Kirk’s<br >cabin, the “night” folio-wing the Vulcan’s return from Sarpeidon. The admiral could feel the faint, unhurried vibration of the Enterprise’s<br >engines carrying him back to Earth, back to his duties there.

Kirk sighed and sat back in his chair, idly glancing around his cabin.<br >He had come aboard too quickly to ha e brought much in the way of personal possessions; unlike Spock, he was not aboard the Enterprise<br >enough to cause this cabin to be reserved for his exclusive use. But, despite its bareness, it was home, as no other place ever had been, or<br >would be.

Soon, the admiral thought, I’ll be back in that bureaucratIC tangle<br >again. I hate the thought ofil. Still, it was his duty, and he’d spent his entire adult existence doing his duty. He could not envision a life<br >outside Starfleet.

But if it hadn’t been for Starfleet, and the Enterprise, he found<br >himself musing, Carol and I might still be together.

David might be a part of my life.<br >

He finished the brandy, and then, with a slight air of defiance, poured<br >himself another and sipped. The warmth in his stomach was already spreading to the rest of his body.<br >

Kirk remembered the boy’s face as it had been when he’d last seen him as<br >an adolescent. Not much ofme there. He definitely takes after Carol … coloring and everything.<br >

Don’t think he liked me much-but that’s not surprising.<br >

Kids are sensitive, and I felt so awkward that I’m sure he picked up on<br >it.

That had been what-ten years ago? At least. How old would David be<br >now? To his shame, he could not remember.

Years ago, I was wrong when I agreed to let Carol raise David without<br >telling him about me. I know that, now.

Probably the biggest mistake ofmy life. But now … would it be fair<br >to David for me to come barging into his life? Just because I need some sort ofabsolution? Would my contacting him benefit David-or would it<br >just make me feel better?

Kirk sighed. I used to know what was right,- at least most of the time<br >I did… or I thought I did But the older I get, the more I question. And … regret …<br >

He frowned down at his drink. Be honest with yourset( Jim. Contacting<br >David now would probably cause him more harm than good. His hand tightened on the stem of the brandy snifter. He frowned down at his<br >glass, then took another sip. Damn.

Kirk looked up, met Spock’s concerned gaze, and straightened, trying to<br >adjust his expression into some semblance of normality. He’s been through a lot… he doesn’t need to be worrying about you, too.<br >Pull yourself together, Jim.

”More brandy?” he offered.<br >

”No, thank you,” Spock said. “I have to go up to the bridge before<br >retifing.”

”I just wish I’d been there to see you wearing armor and waving a<br >sword,” Kirk told the Vulcan, for the fourth time, shaking his head over the picture his imagination conjured up. “The whole adventure is like<br >something out of Tennyson, or Scott. Incredibly romantic and swashbuckling. .<br >

”You sound like Miniver Cheevy, Jim,” McCoy said, raising an eyebrow.<br >”You forgetting the cold, the dirt, and the smells?”

Spock also raised an eyebrow. “Miniver Cheevy?”<br >

The doctor gave the Vulcan a startled glance. “I don’t believe it. You<br >mean I’ve actually read something you haven’t?”

”Apparently,” Spock said, imperturbably. “What is the reference?”<br >

”It’s a poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson,” McCoy said, “about a man who<br >spent his entire life yearning after the age of chivalry in days of yore.”<br >

”I remember the last verse,” Kirk said, and quoted<br >

Miniver Cheevy, born too late, Scratched his head and kept on thinking;<br >

Miniver coughed, and called it fate, And kept on drinking.<br >

”So, here’s to the so-called ‘good old days.” Deliberately, the admiral<br >raised his glass to the Vulcan, then took a sip.

”I … see,” Spock said, and the worried shadow was back in the dark<br >eyes.

Kirk shook his head. “Cut that out, Spock. You know me better than<br >that.”

”I suppose I do,” his friend said, “but this mission has been a<br >difficult one … for all of us.”

”I’ll say,” McCoy agreed. “By the time we get back, the semester will<br >be nearly over. They’ll have found someone to replace me, by now. I’m probably out of a job.”<br >

The admiral smiled at the idea. “Why not hang around Earth for awhile,<br >then? You could teach at the Academy, with Spock.”

McCoy snorted. “Teach what? First-aid for young officers?”<br >

”Actually,” Spock said, meditatively, “you could be of use, Doctor. I<br >sometimes find myselfat a loss when it comes to evaluating the emotional reactions of my human cadets especially in stressful situations. I<br >would value your advice.”

The doctor’s eyes widened. He turned to Kirk. “Did I hear him right?<br >Did he really say what I thought I heard him say?”

The admiral chuckled. “C’mon, Bones. You know Spock has a lot of<br >respect for your opinion.”

”He’s managed to hide it well,” McCoy grumbled. “Well … I’ll<br >consider it.”

”I’ll be around more, too,” Kirk said. “I’m going to tell Morrow as<br >soon as we get home that I want to spend at least half my time teaching.” He pounded his fist softly against the arm of his seat, for<br >emphasis. “And this time, I’m making it stick.”

McCoy suddenly leaned forward, his eyes intent on the Vulcan’s hands.<br >”What’ve you got there, Spock?”

The Vulcan held up the data cassette he’d been fingering.<br >

”Before I left Gateway, I took one more reading of Sarpeldon’s history-I<br >had it in mind to attempt an additional analysis of the effects of our mission on the timestream. To see whether Zar’s history had really<br >changed.”

”Why should you question that?” McCoy asked, quickly.<br >

”You said he was all right. That he wasn’t that badly hurt.”<br >

Spock nodded. “But I do not know how malleable the past can be. It is<br >always possible that I … we … changed very little. That the integrity of the timestream repairs itself … or, as you might put<br >it, Doctor, that fate refuses to be mocked.”

McCoy snorted. “Bull. I believe that whatever happened, happened. And<br >that, ifwe were part of it, then that’s the way it was supposed to be. Like that incident with Gary Seven.<br >

When we checked the history files, we found out that that was what had<br >happened all along.”

The Vulcan’s somber expression Lightened a bit. “I had forgotten about<br >that. Perhaps you are right, Doctor,” he murmured. As they watched, he picked up the tricorder that lay on the table beside him and inserted<br >the data cassette.

Then, with studied deliberation, he pushed the “erase” button.<br >

Kirk gave McCoy a startled, sidelong glance, and both of them looked<br >back at their friend. “And, if the doctor is not correct,” Spock finished, so softly his friends had to strain to hear him, “I find<br >myself preferring not to know about it.”

”He’ll be fine, Spock,” McCoy said. “He and Wynn’ll probably have six<br >kids and live to ripe old ages.”

A reminiscent half-smile relaxed the Vulcan’s stern mouth for a fleeting<br >second, and he glanced down at the tricorder in his hand again. “You may well be right, Doctor …”<br >

”Speaking of ripe old ages, Jim,” McCoy said, a moment later, his blue<br >eyes sparkling mischievously, “you’ve got a birthday coming up next month.”<br >

The admiral grimaced. “Don’t remind me. I’m trying to ignore this<br >particular one.”

”What would you like for a present?” the doctor persisted. “Another<br >antique for your wall collection?” He chuckled. “Spock, you should’ve filched that sword of Zar’s while you had the chance.”<br >

Kirk grinned. “It was a beauty, all right. But he needs it more than I<br >do.” He considered. “I don’t know … yes, I do.” He sat up with an air of decision. “I’d like to spend my birthday out in space. Not a<br >real mission, nothing desperate like that. Just a chance to be aboard the Enterprise again.”<br >

”There is a training and inspection cruise scheduled for next month,”<br >Spock said. “Perhaps you can arrange to handle the inspection yourself, Jim.”<br >

”I’ll twist Morrow’s arm,” Kirk promised, cheerfully. A sudden thought<br >struck him. “Spock, we’ve served together for all these years, and I don’t even know when your birthday is.”<br >

”Vulcans celebrate name-days, rather than the anniversary of birth,”<br >Spock said. “But the actual date was …” he calculated for a bare second, “last week, actually.”<br >

”Then I owe you a dinner out,” the admiral said, raising his glass in<br >salute. “You pick the place. And a belate. “Happy Birthday’ to you. Many happy returns of the day.”<br >

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “Many happy returns of the day’?” he<br >repeated, obviously puzzled.

”He means, ‘may you enjoy many more birthdays to come,” Spock,” McCoy<br >translated. “Same as saying ‘may you live long.”

”Oh. Thank you, then,” Spock said, rising to his feet. “I will<br >consider where to go for dinner. But at the moment, I must check in on the bridge.” The Vulcan picked up his maroon uniform jacket from where<br >it hung over the back of his chair. After slipping it on, he fastened it, then squared his shoulders, tugging it down around his lean hips so<br >it fit perfectly.

Kirk grinned, stretching his legs out in front of him, settling deeper<br >into his seat. “Better you than me. I intend to be lazy the rest of the way home, and let you mind the store, Captain. R.H.1,P., you know.”<br >

The Vulcan nodded. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Jim,” he said, a faint<br >gleam of amused affection in his dark eyes.

”Remember that before we can embark on the training cruise itself, all<br >the command cadets must first take th. “Kobayashi Maru’ test.”

The door slid open before the Vulcan, and he left, leaving Kirk and<br >McCoy alone. The admiral groaned quietly. “I’d forgotten about that. And I hate inspections.”<br >

McCoy raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather do paperwork?”<br >

The Chief of Starfleet Operations grinned. “Hell, no.<br >

Paperwork gives me a headache, Bones. Literally.”<br >

”Really? I’d better check your eyes, Jim.”<br >

James T. Kirk yawned. “Tomorrow, Bones. We’ve got lots of time for<br >that. Lots of time …”

The two old friends sat sipping their drinks and talking, while around<br >them, enclosing and protecting them, her gleaming hull shrouded in rainbow shimmer and endless night, the Enterprise glided serenely toward<br >Earth, and home. <body>

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