He felt intense regret that Zar would be a helpless partner to his demise, but could think of no way to avert it. Hopefully, the Romulans would be quick—for both of them.
Kirk roused from a cramped half-doze, wincing as his ribs stabbed fire against the cold of the rocky floor. As his mind cleared, he began rubbing his jaw hard on the gritty rock beneath his cheek. He heard another swishing noise, realized Spock was doing the same.
Both sides of his face were raw fire, but the gag slipped. He spit it out, worked his mouth to get the jaw muscles moving again, swallowed a fraction of the cottony dryness, "Spock?"
A grunted assent from the Vulcan, then the quiet voice, "Captain—are you hurt badly? You've been unconscious for some time—ever since Tal left. . . ."
Kirk made an impatient sound. "Never mind that. If they untie both of us, you know what to do if you get the chance." He waited for agreement, heard none. "Damn it, Spock, that's an order. I'll do it myself if I get the opportunity. . . ." He turned his head toward the First Officer, ignoring the slowly tightening loop around his neck—and then realized what a fool he'd been. Deliberately, he began thrashing, feeling the noose tighten, holding his breath against the pain in his ribs and throat.
"Jim, no!"
The Vulcan moved, ignoring the jerk of the noose on his own throat, vainly trying to reach that gasping figure whose stuggles were fast weakening. Then, behind him, he heard the opening of the tent, and a muffled exclamation—Tal's voice. "Kirk, no!" Feet stumbled over the Vulcan's legs as the Romulan flung himself between them.
Spock could hear the rasp of a blade against the cords, and knew that the Romulan Officer was cutting the Captain's bonds. He strained sensitive ears, and was rewarded by a faint gasp—Kirk wasn't—
The ground beneath them rocked, and the Commander pitched between the two prisoners with the force of the explosion. Shards of rock and debris spattered against the tough outside of the tent, and gradually the shock waves died down. Tal scrambled to his feet, shouting orders and inquiries, and rushed out of the tent, leaving the two Federation officers alone.
Outside, Spock could hear shouts, orders, and running feet. Inside, there were only those wheezing breaths. He called his Captain's name repeatedly, but Kirk was either unconscious or unable to talk. He stopped in the middle of one cautious inquiry to listen—heard a rip at the back of the tent, and then a voice. Uhura's? Impossible. . . .
But it was. "Thank heaven we found you, sir." Gentle hands that nevertheless moved with sure strength severed his bonds, and the Vulcan sat up, blinking, as he pushed the blindfold off. Even in the dim light of the tent, it was hard to make out the Lieutenant's features—his eyes watered after the total blackness.
"The Captain—" he began, and heard McCoy's reassuring mutter.
"Jim's all right—well, depends on your definition. Shock, exhaustion, three broken ribs … he should be in sickbay. But if I know him, he'll want to—" The Vulcan could hear several shots from the hypo hiss, then McCoy's grumble again, "… the worst patient in Star Fleet, won't rest, has to do it all himself, you watch—"
By this time Spock could see, watched as the Doctor, never ceasing his monologue, deftly bound Kirk's rib cage in an elastic bandage that automatically adjusted for maximum support. By the time McCoy had finished, Kirk was conscious.
"Bones … Uhura … I'm glad to see you. How'd you get here?" His hazel gaze turned to the Vulcan and narrowed in puzzlement. "Seems to me that there was an explosion—or was that just the one in my head? There were a lot of them. . . ." He winced as he took a deep breath.
"No, Jim," McCoy said. "That was Zar. We sent him off to create a diversion, and he blew both Romulan craft sky-high. He must've overloaded his phaser.
"Is he all right?" Something in the Vulcan's voice made the three of them turn to face him.
"We haven't seen him, sir." Uhura said. "I presume he got out of the blast area. Come on, we'd better get out of here—if you can walk, Captain."
"I'm fine." Kirk's face belied his words as he stood, and he didn't refuse the supporting arms offered him by the Doctor and his First Officer.
Once outside the camp, Uhura hailed the Enterprise.
"Enterprise, Scott here."
Uhura handed the communicator to Kirk. "Scotty, this is the Captain. What's your status?"
"Repairs are underway, sir, but in general, we were fortunate. No deaths, a few injuries, only one serious. McCoy can tell you better aboot them. Admiral Komack has been callin' and he's on the other channel right noo. The cloakin' device is gone, sir." He paused, then continued, "Admiral Komack says he monitored an explosion down there."
"Yes. Patch me in to him, Scotty."
As Kirk talked to the Admiral, Spock, McCoy and Uhura turned to survey the remains of the Romulan camp. The blast had leveled several of the tents closest to the wrecked shuttles, and there was turmoil and disorder everywhere. As they watched, a party of Federation marines trotted through the center of the camp, heavy-duty phasers cradled at ready. In the distance they could hear the occasional whine of phasers set for maximum stun.
"Not Enterprise security." McCoy observed.
"I would speculate that Admiral Komack dispatched them, as soon as the cloaking device was removed, Doctor," Spock said, never turning from his constant scanning of the tumbled figures near the blast area. McCoy suddenly realized who the Vulcan was looking for, and in unspoken agreement, the two walked back into the camp. The only casualties however, wore Romulan uniforms. They picked their way among them, and McCoy occasionally dropped to check a prone figure, then summoned Federation medical personnel if the Romulan was still alive.
"Actually, they're as lucky as we are," the Doctor said, after they finished their grim check. "It could have been worse. That blast was nearly contained by the bulk of the two ships. It was set carefully—to destroy as few—"
"Bones, Spock!" They turned, to find Kirk picking his way toward them. "The Admiral reports that our forces are nearly in complete control. I've put Uhura in charge of supervising the prisoners. Chu Wong and his people are assisting the mop-up squad."
"Good." McCoy said decisively. "That means that Spock can stay here to look for Zar, and I can get you back to sickbay before you collapse. Admiral Komack's got the situation in hand."
"Not so fast, Bones. You've forgotten one thing. As long as this planet's swarming with unauthorized personnel, we'll need a constant watch on the Guardian. The three of us have been detailed to that until all Federation and Romulan forces have been transported off the surface. Come on."
Despite Kirk's protests that he was fine, the way back to the time portal was a slow one. Several times the Captain was forced to rest, ignoring McCoy's protests that he should beam back to the Enterprise and leave the others to guard the time portal.
Finally, they sighted the monolithic form. As they moved haltingly toward it, McCoy narrowed his eyes, then touched Spock's arm. The Vulcan had already seen the ashy dust puffing up from the opposite side of the portal. A moment later, sounds of a scuffle reached them. Spock and McCoy broke into a run, and Kirk, teeth fastened in his lip, quickened his limping hobble.
The two officers rounded the temple wall and saw twin dark figures rolling in the dust, loud gasps punctuated by grunts of pain as they groped for each other's throats. To McCoy's suprise, both wore Romulan uniforms, and he wondered briefly what they were fighting over before his vision cleared and he recognized Zar's features under streaks of blood and smeared dust.
Spock's voice rang loud, cutting through the agonized sounds of the combat. "Tal, drop the weapon. Now."
Chapter XIX
At the sound of Spock's voice, the thrashing intensified until the onlookers could barely see for the choking dust. The Doctor heard his own voice, tight with anxiety. "Spock, your phaser! Stun Tal!" From out of the melee on the ground, a hand—Tal's hand, they could tell by the Romulan insignia—reached, groped, then closed on the Romulan sidearm that had been knocked to the sid
e. Zar evidently saw the barrel of the weapon turning toward his head, and heaved wildly at the Romulan's body. Spock hesitated, trying for a clear shot.
McCoy flung himself at the Vilcan's weapon. "Stun both of them, for God's sake! He's going to kill Zar!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the younger man's knee move, heard Tal's grunt, then his fingers closed around the phaser and McCoy turned to fire.
Spock shoved the Doctor's hand, spoiling his aim, just as they saw the flash of a blade in Zar's hand. They heard the muffled impact as it connected with the back of Tal's neck, and then the Romulan sagged, limp.
Zar let him sprawl in the dust as he pulled himself to a kneeling position, leaning heavily on a nearby boulder. The young man's breathing was a ragged sob … the only sound in the stillness.
McCoy moved to the Romulan and turned him over, then stared in surprise as his hands came away unstained. Kirk joined him, and both men looked up at Zar's words to Spock—formal, almost ritualistic. "Just as I have shadowed thy life, thy shadow now lies over me." Zar straightened, his mouth a grim slash. "I hit him with the butt … not the blade."
Tal gasped, moaned, and McCoy hastily took out a charge for his hypo, pressed it into the Commander's shoulder. The Romulan sagged again. "That should hold him, Bones," Kirk said. "We'll take him with us when we beam up."
"How did you find him, Zar?" asked the Doctor, standing up. "And where did you get the uniform?"
"I came back here to make sure nobody would tamper with the Guardian." Zar replied. "Then I saw him, digging around the unit we installed. I was able to get close enough wearing the uniform to jump him. I 'borrowed' the uniform from one of the sentries before I planted my phaser to overload."
"And to think we didn't want you to come with us because Spock was worried you'd get hurt." Kirk lowered himself gingerly onto a fallen column, shaking his head. "Tell me, have you ever considered joining Star Fleet? We could use someone with talents like yours."
Zar started to say something, then bit his lip. As they watched, his expression changed, became shadowed, remote. "I'm afraid not, Captain." He turned to McCoy. "Did you bring along that duffle bag from my quarters I mentioned?"
McCoy pointed. "Over there. What's in it, anyhow?"
"Clothes." Zar said shortly, stooping to pick up the bundle, then continuing out of sight behind a large boulder.
The Doctor looked puzzled, then glanced back at the time portal, quiescent, grimly lifeless. "Helluva lot of trouble over a big stone doughnut, wasn't it, Jim?"
Kirk nodded, an echo of old sadness in his voice, "But still worth it, Bones. Always worth it."
It was Spock who saw Zar return from changing his clothes, and the other officers turned at his in-drawn breath.
The leather tunic was tight, now, and the rough breeches pulled taut around hard-muscled legs above the fur mukluks. Only the gray fur cloak, sweeping the ground, fit the same as it had seven weeks ago. Zar stooped, gathered up the hide bag that contained his few possessions from the past, and slung it across his back, fastened it with thongs. Then he faced them, head up, his expression calm but watchful.
Spock was the first of them to find his voice, and it was incongruously normal-sounding. "You are going back?"
"Yes." The remoteness faded he met Spock's eyes, watched his father get up, walk over to face him. "I have to. We've all risked our lives to make sure history isn't changed, and I have reason to believe it will be if I don't return. I'm needed there …" His mouth softened into what was almost a wry smile. "Needed there, as I'd never be here—despite the Captain's kind remark. McCoy was right. Two of us is two too many. I don't want to spend my life trying to stay out of your shadow. . . . And I would. So I'm leaving. What better place to go than a planet where my skills, what I have to offer … teach … are needed desperately?" His voice softened. "After all, it's my home."
"What makes you think you'll change history if you don't return? Living in that arctic wilderness alone—" Spock half-protested.
"I'm not going to be alone. Instead of the Northern hemisphere of Sarpeidon, I'm going to the Southern one … to the Lakreo Valley." Zar watched recognition dawn in Spock's eyes as he mentioned his destination.
"The Lakreo Valley 5,000 years ago?" Kirk frowned. "I … what's the significance of that?"
"Ask Mr. Sp—" Zar hesitiated and his shoulders straightened even more. "Ask my father. I can tell he remembers."
"The Lakreo Valley … the Sarpeidon equivalent of the Tigris-Euphates civilization on Earth … or the Khal at R'sev on Vulcan. A remarkable cultural awakening. Within a comparatively short span of time, the backward hunting and gathering tribesmen developed many of the basics of civilization. A spoken and written language—the zero—agriculture—" The Vulcan's dry recitation paused, and Zar took up the list, eyes shining.
"Domestication of animals—smelting metal—architecture. More than that. All within a very short span of time. An unprecedented development in a people's history. Such rapid growth logically indicates that they had help. I have strong evidence to indicate that help was me."
"But Beta Niobe …" McCoy began, and stopped. Zar nodded gravely.
"Oh, it will still blow up. But my people will have had 5,000 years of civilization that they might not otherwise have. Five thousand years is a respectable time span for anyone—especially when you think about the fact that the culture didn't die. It's all there, the important things, in the computer banks of the Federation, where we both saw them." He took a deep breath. "I know this is what I must do—without me, there won't be any cultural awakening. Or maybe a different one, and that would change history."
Some of the tension in the air eased suddenly as Zar's teeth flashed in a wry grin. "The entire notion sounds incredibly arrogant when I hear it out loud."
McCoy cleared his throat gruffly. "I wouldn't worry about it. You come by it honestly." He watched a suggestion of that same smile soften the Vulcan's hard mouth for a second at his words, and wasn't sure he'd seen it until Spock nodded.
"I first realized the truth the other day, just before the landing party died. I was studying the tapes Spock had been looking at, plus some others I found in the library. Things started to add up." He shrugged one shoulder in the old self-deprecating way. "Hadn't any of you ever wondered why my mother spoke English?"
Zar started to turn away, toward the time portal. Spock's voice stopped him. "Wait." The Vulcan cleared his throat, and his words were soft, but perfectly distinct. "I have been … planning. Thinking. Before you mentioned leaving, that is. I would like you to accompany me to Vulcan, to meet … the Family. Are you sure you must go?"
Zar nodded without speaking.
Spock took a deep breath. "You must do what you have decided is right, then. But first …" He moved toward the younger man, stretching out his hand, fingers reaching for his head. Zar stiffened, then relaxed visibly as the older man's lean fingertips pressed lightly between the slanting brows so like the Vulcan's own. The two stood, eyes closed, for long moments.
Kirk had never seen two telepaths mind-meld, and hadn't realized that the tension-filled contact points of spread fingers weren't necessary. This contact was quiet, undramatic, almost gentle. Finally Spock dropped his hand, and weariness seemed to settle over him like a cloak.
Zar's eyes opened and he took a deep breath, blinking. "The meld …" He was clearly shaken. "The truth … is a great gift. . . ."
"No one has a greater right to know." Spock's voice was deeper than usual, and the expression in his eyes mirrored the warmth in Zar's.
The younger man turned away after a moment, moved to clasp hands with Kirk. "Captain, it would be better if they think I died—in the explosion, or the fight with Tal. Nobody has to know I used the time portal." He looked over at the gigantic rocky oval. "I have a feeling that nobody will ever be allowed to use it again. We came too close to disaster this time."
"Admiral Komack seemed to be thinking along those same lines, so you're probably right, Zar. You
know that means you can't change your mind. Besides, there's no portal on the other side. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I'm sure, Captain. This is the right thing for me."
"I wish you luck, then. How will the Guardian know where to put you?"
"It will know." Zar sounded so confident that Kirk didn't argue with him. They shook hands again, and the younger man frowned. "One thing worries me, Captain. Will you get in trouble for breaking General Order Nine?"
Kirk chuckled weakly, then stopped as his ribs protested. "It's been logged that you volunteered, and you're an adult. Under the circumstances, I suppose they'll have to overlook it. After all, you did save the whole show."
Zar raised an eyebrow. "I had some help, Captain. . . ." The laughter in the gray eyes died, as he leaned close and whispered, "Take care of him, please."
Kirk nodded.
McCoy's voice was gruff as they shook hands. "Take care of yourself, son. Remember, never draw from an inside straight."
"I'll remember. I'll have to teach my people how to play poker, though, before I'll get a chance to put all you taught me into practice. But think of the advantage I'll have!" The gray eyes belied the light words. "I'll miss you. You know, indirectly, you're to blame for my decision."
"I am?"
"Yes. You were the one who told me to grow up. And I knew when I saw those history pages that it wasn't going to be easy. But I'm trying."
"You're doing fine." McCoy took a deep breath, tried to smile.
Zar walked over to the Guardian, reached down and removed the last wire from the force field unit. Staightening, he looked at Spock, and voiced a phrase in Vulcan. The other replied briefly in the same language. Turning, Zar placed a hand on the blue-gray rock and stood silently, head bowed, for a long moment.
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