Star Trek: The Original Series: From History's Shadow

by Dayton Ward

  Shifting in his seat, McCoy said, “Given everything that we know was going on during that period, I’m guessing it had to be something pretty important to make you travel across space and time to find us.” The doctor eyed Kirk with suspicion, but when he spoke again Roberta heard the gentle mocking in his tone. “What did you do now?”

  “Me?” Kirk asked. “I’ve been behaving myself.”

  Roberta laughed, happy for the momentary distraction. She had forgotten about McCoy’s penchant for irreverence. Then, she reminded herself that from the doctor’s perspective, he had not yet met her.

  Time travel makes my brain bleed.

  “As you’ve probably guessed,” she said, “I’m here because of your two unexpected guests. Though we were aware of Mestral’s living on Earth, we never considered him a threat. Gejalik, on the other hand, is a different matter. Until recently, we didn’t have a whole lot of knowledge about the Certoss, or their whereabouts or activities.”

  Frowning, Kirk asked, “Even though they’d been on Earth since the 1940s?”

  “Imagine our surprise,” Roberta said, shaking her head in momentary embarrassment. “They were very, very good at covering their tracks. They were on Earth even before the arrival of the first Aegis teams, and their mission depended on their long-term blending into human society while they carried out their work.”

  “Aegis?” McCoy asked.

  Roberta nodded. “The group overseeing our activities on Earth.” She shrugged. “Now you know as much about them as I do.” Clearing her throat, she continued. “Remember, these Certoss operatives were trained even to elude agents from other, rival advanced alien civilizations sent to Earth to counter their objectives.”

  “But we’re still talking about things that happened on Earth three hundred years ago,” McCoy said, not quite scowling but instead regarding her in what Roberta recognized as his normal, skeptical demeanor. “What does any of that have to do with why you’re here now?” She remembered that of all the Enterprise senior officers, Leonard McCoy—even more so than Captain Kirk himself—harbored no compunctions about speaking his mind regardless of the topic or audience. His Starfleet rank and position within its hierarchy seemed of little consequence to him, and at first she had wondered what compelled him to remain within such a rigid, protocol-driven organization. Based on what she had learned of the doctor’s background, Roberta had concluded that McCoy’s motivations had little to do with anything beyond his desire to be a superb and compassionate provider of medical care, and the friendship he shared with his Enterprise colleagues, in particular James Kirk and Spock.

  “For what it’s worth,” she said, “it’s got nothing to do with you, other than that your ship was the one that went to 1968 Earth as part of that time travel experiment. Luck of the draw, I guess.”

  “We get that a lot,” McCoy said.

  Kirk glanced to Spock. “Remind me to thank Commodore Delgado for the headache I’m sure I’m about to get.”

  “I will make a note of it in the ship’s log,” the first officer replied, batting not one Vulcan eyelash at his captain’s remark, and Roberta found herself forced to stifle another laugh.

  “Gejalik and her companions were sent to Earth from the future as agents acting on behalf of Certoss Ajahlan, a planet that had aligned itself with one of the anti-Federation factions during the Temporal Cold War. With the ending of the war and the timeline being restored, the reality in which the Certoss were an enemy of the Federation—and Earth—no longer exists. Obviously, Earth is not a threat to Certoss Ajahlan, and in this timeline there never was such a threat, but Gejalik and her fellow agents represent something of an anomaly, in that they’re from the future in which that was the case.”

  Scowling once more, McCoy said, “I don’t understand. If this Temporal Cold War business was resolved, and everything put back where it belongs, then how is it they were . . . left out . . . for lack of a better term? For that matter, how is it that you, or any of us, even know about it in the first place?”

  “Great questions, Doctor,” Roberta replied, “and not easy for me to answer. From what Gary’s told me, the Aegis along with several other groups scattered across the galaxy have means by which they’re able to maintain records showing the diverging paths in their people’s history; a protected archive, I guess.”

  Kirk asked, “So, it’s true that they came from our future?”

  Nodding, Roberta said, “Yes, Captain; another two hundred or so years into your future. That was the era in which they entered the war. Even during Earth’s twentieth century, their level of technology surpassed ours, though only by a few generations. Coming as they did from the future, they obviously held an advantage in any number of technological areas. Add to that their apparent knowledge of Earth’s future history and how and where to influence it, and you start to see the problem.”

  Even as she spoke, she knew she was treading a very thin line so far as revealing information with respect to the Certoss. There was a risk that came with Kirk and his crew possessing knowledge of events from their own future as well as that of the Certoss, whether in this timeline or another that may or may not ever come to pass. As for the Certoss, the full truth behind their machinations and blatant interference in the affairs of Earth’s past still were closely protected secrets, and with good reason. Despite all that was known about the Temporal Cold War, what remained a mystery was how the conflict began in the first place. For all she knew, inadvertent meddling by Starfleet with time travel might well be responsible.

  “The other problem stems from Gejalik being in the here and now,” she continued. “In addition to being from the future of the Certoss people, she also comes from a different timeline. In this reality, Certoss Ajahlan is not a military power of any sort, and hasn’t been for centuries.”

  “From my review of their planetary history,” Spock said, “the Certoss long ago abandoned their martial ideologies. Much like my own people, they emerged from generations of conflict in favor of scientific and cultural advances benefiting all segments of their civilization.”

  “Exactly,” Roberta said. “They’ve never been a threat to anyone. Their history was altered as a result of the Temporal Cold War so that they never achieved that cultural ‘enlightenment.’ When the war ended, their proper timeline was restored.”

  McCoy snorted. “Are we sure this is the proper timeline? For any of us?”

  “Would you prefer the alternate reality where Earth’s only contribution to interstellar affairs was war,” Roberta countered, “before humanity ultimately gets the collective spanking it would so richly deserve by that point? Remember, the Temporal Cold War wasn’t all that kind to Earth, either. Gejalik and her people were on a mission to make sure humanity never made it to space, even if that meant destroying our entire civilization. All that was avoided, of course, once everything was put back on the right track.” Eyeing the physician, she could not resist adding, “But ‘right’ is a somewhat relative term. You of all people should know that, Doctor.”

  “Point taken,” McCoy said, settling back into his chair, his expression conveying discomfort at memories reluctantly revisited.

  Now regretting what she had said, Roberta cleared her throat. “That wasn’t fair, Doctor. I was trying to convey the seriousness of the situation, but I got carried away, and for that I’m sorry.” She sighed. “This last year, working with Mister Seven, has been pretty intense. I’ve had crash courses in just about every subject you can think of. Sometimes I think it’s a bit much for a simple secretary to take.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” McCoy replied. Though his expression remained dour, he nodded in apparent satisfaction.

  Aware that she had transgressed, Roberta took an extra moment to compose her thoughts before continuing. “The biggest problem with Gejalik contacting Certoss Ajahlan in this timeline is that her people, in addition to being largely a civilization of pacifists, also have no knowledge—none—of their involvement in the Tem
poral Cold War. When the time stream was restored, it wiped away all evidence of their previous reality. Their people don’t have access to the same . . . information . . . with respect to the war and its various temporal incursions that the Aegis possesses. Introducing knowledge of the conflict, as well as their role in it, could be unsettling to say the least.”

  “That is the second time you’ve mentioned the Aegis harboring information on the war,” Spock said. “You also implied that they were not the only holders of such records. How is ownership of such data even possible, unless the party in question is able to monitor events outside a specific timeline?”

  “You just answered your own question,” Roberta said, knowing her attempt at clever evasion would not appease the Vulcan’s curiosity, to say nothing of his formidable intellect and deductive reasoning skills. Before Spock could pursue that line of questioning any further, Roberta held up a hand. “I’m really not at liberty to discuss that with you. I’ve probably already said too much, as it is. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m counting on you to trust me on this.” For a moment, Roberta wondered how Spock might react if she were to tell him that there one day would be an organization within the Federation whose primary mission was to carry out the very tasks he had suggested?

  I need to write myself a reminder to be around when he finds out about that.

  “Right now, though,” she said, “we have to deal with this issue, because it goes way beyond just whatever confusion or other difficulties Gejalik and her message might mean for Certoss Ajahlan.”

  “I don’t understand,” McCoy said, the lines in his forehead appearing to deepen as his brow wrinkled.

  Kirk said, “I do.” When Roberta turned to look at him, the captain had cast his gaze down upon the conference table. He was tapping the fingers of his right hand in absent fashion, and she imagined she could see his mind working. “Someone else could’ve picked up Gejalik’s message. Someone who might know what it means.”

  “Exactly,” Roberta replied. “And it’s not just a possibility. It’s happened.” She released a sigh. “This is probably a good place to insert a joke about genies and bottles, but I don’t feel like making it.”

  “What do we do?” Kirk asked.

  Not liking the answer that was all she had to offer, Roberta said, “I honestly don’t know for sure. This is . . . all pretty new to me.”

  Spock, sitting with his hands clasped before him and with the index fingers of each hand extended so that they joined at their tips, said, “And yet, you have come to assist us in remedying this situation?”

  “Sort of,” Roberta said. “At least, that’s what I hope to do.” Once more, she felt the pang of uncertainty. It seemed that the current state of affairs was getting more complicated with every passing moment. The time for reflection and casting about while trying to figure out how best to proceed was coming to an end.

  There also was a joke to be made about a time traveler running out of time, she knew, but Roberta Lincoln had no overwhelming urge to make that attempt, either.

  THIRTEEN

  Carbon Creek, Pennsylvania

  November 10, 1957

  “Almost there,” said their guide, Hugh Roberts, calling over his shoulder to Major James Wainwright and Staff Sergeant Allison Marshall as he led them through the forest. Though Wainwright had guessed him to be around sixty years old, he moved with the speed and agility of a man half his age, doing so without the aid of a flashlight and while following no discernible path. Dressed in denim coveralls with a red flannel shirt and an olive-drab military-issue field jacket, the only thing Roberts had with him was the hunting rifle slung over his right shoulder, and the large knife held in a belt sheath along his left hip.

  “And you’re sure we’re heading in the right direction?” Wainwright asked, the air cold enough that he could see his breath.

  The older man chuckled. “Sonny, I’ve been stomping around out here since before you were born. I could walk this whole mountain range with my eyes closed and never once run into a tree.”

  Walking alongside Wainwright and sporting a similar style of civilian cold-weather coat, Marshall said, “The trees are pretty thick here, sir. How were you able to see the . . . what you say you saw?”

  Waving one hand ahead of him, Roberts replied, “There’s a few small clearings up yonder. Once we get there, you’ll see what I mean.”

  His sighting, if that’s what it had been, was one of dozens reported in the days following the astonishing news of the Soviet Union’s successful launching into orbit of the first-ever artificial satellite. Sputnik 1, twice the size of a basketball, was at this moment circling the Earth at a speed of more than eighteen thousand miles per hour, completing a circuit of the globe once every ninety minutes or so. According to the classified reports Wainwright had read back at Wright-Patterson, the satellite had stopped transmitting its communications and gone inert a couple of weeks previously, its batteries now drained. Despite being operational for less than a month, the very existence of Sputnik had spawned a rash of new UFO sightings around the world. Many of the reports could be explained by the satellite itself, which was visible to the naked eye on a clear night and with favorable weather conditions. Others that could not be so rationalized—such as the mass sighting reported a week earlier by more than a dozen people in the small town of Levelland, Texas—were categorized for further investigation. The report submitted by Hugh Roberts also fell into the latter group, and was one of several new case files that had drawn Wainwright’s attention.

  Beyond the trees ahead of them, the moonlight seemed somewhat brighter, and Wainwright saw that they were approaching what might be a clearing. Even from here he was able to see rock outcroppings and a dark area that suggested some kind of ditch or other depression. Ahead of him, Roberts slipped his rifle from his shoulder and cycled its bolt-action to chamber a round. Wainwright stopped and held up a hand for Marshall to do the same.

  “Mister Roberts?” he prompted, resisting the urge to place his hand on his holstered .45 pistol. When the older man turned, Wainwright saw the worry in his face.

  “You’ll see,” Roberts replied, before resuming his advance toward the clearing.

  Wainwright exchanged looks with Marshall, who regarded him with the same apparent confusion he was feeling. “What’s the matter with him?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

  “I don’t know, sir,” Marshall replied. “He looks scared.”

  Yeah, but of what?

  Opting for caution, Wainwright drew his pistol before again setting off after Roberts, who by now had reached the edge of the clearing and was standing in the moonlight, waiting for him and Marshall to catch up. Wainwright could see that the depression was larger than he first thought, and deeper. The moon’s illumination also revealed how the trough extended to the clearing’s far edge and into the trees, and that it was bordered by bare soil. Leaves had fallen to cover some of the dirt, but what was visible was still easy to identify as having been overturned.

  “Oh, my God,” he said, his eyes locked on the furrow. “This is recent, isn’t it?”

  Roberts nodded. “Yep. Three weeks to a month, I reckon.”

  “Wait,” Marshall said. Crouching down, she removed her knapsack and set it on the ground. Extracting the Geiger counter, she activated the unit and aimed it toward the depression. It began ticking and the needle on its illuminated dial fluctuated, coming to rest two ticks above the zero mark.

  “Are we okay?” Wainwright asked, feeling his own unease growing.

  Marshall nodded. “I think so, sir. Whatever this thing’s picking up, it’s pretty faint.” Looking up at Roberts, she asked, “You know what’s causing this, don’t you?”

  Instead of replying, the older man gestured with the barrel of his rifle. “Come on. Once you see it, you’ll understand why I didn’t want to say nothing.” He led the way toward the trench and as they drew closer, Wainwright saw that a recent rain had somewhat compacted the churned dirt a
nd grass. He traced its path across the clearing, his pace increasing with every step until he was jogging the length of the small glade. The beam of his flashlight played across the damp grass, dirt, and leaves as well as the occasional rock sticking up from the ground, but Wainwright brought himself up short when the light glinted off something metallic.

  Son of a bitch.

  It was, without doubt, some kind of craft, and though he had no proof, he knew with utmost certainty that it was a ship designed for travel in space.

  “You saw it crash, didn’t you?” Wainwright asked, hearing footsteps approaching from behind him and turning to see Roberts and Marshall running to catch up. He spared them only a glance before his attention was pulled back to the ship.

  Clearing his throat, Roberts replied, “No, I didn’t.”

  The odd reply earned him a quizzical look from Marshall, who asked, “What? Your report said you saw it on the ground.”

  “I did,” the older man said. “I just never saw it flying. I came across it one night while I was hunting. Found it pretty much just like it is now. Wasn’t even sure at first what it might be. You know, maybe it’s one of them top-secret planes you folks are always working on. Then I remembered what other people had been saying about seeing something in the sky a few weeks back, and I realized this might be it.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that from the beginning?” Wainwright asked.

  Roberts shrugged. “Because it sounds crazy, that’s why. You folks get reports about people seeing flying saucers all the time, and maybe sometimes you can figure out it’s just a plane or something else. How many people do you get calling to tell you they found a spaceship in the woods? Hell, my wife would throw me in the loony bin for saying something like that.” He gestured toward the craft. “I figured it best to get you out here to see for yourselves.”