Yesterday Son Read Free

lab at 0815. Report anything unusual. This sector has been charted as having some good-sized radiation storms.”
    The Captain left the bridge, aware of a nagging prickle of disquiet at the back of his neck. Spock would have called it illogical—Kirk called it a hunch.
     
    Kirk continued to worry during the next three days, as Spock’s and McCoy’s silence continued. He took out his frustrations on the training android in the self-defense section of the gym.
    He was relaxing in his cabin after one particularly strenuous workout, sprawled facedown across his bunk, reading. The volume was one of Kirk’s own cherished bound books. “The kind of book you can hold in your hands,” as Sam Cogley had put it. The lawyer had introduced him to the hobby of collecting “real” books, and Kirk had found this remarkably well-preserved copy of an old favorite in an antique shop on Canopus IV. He was absorbed in the [21] ad ventures of Captain Nemo and the Nautilus when the door signal flashed.
    “Come in,” Kirk put the book back into its protective cover when the door slid open to reveal his First Officer. He waved an arm invitingly at a chair. “Sit down. Would you like some Saurian brandy?”
    Spock shook his head at the brandy bottle, and Kirk poured a small shot for himself. He sat down opposite the Vulcan, cradling the snifter in his hands, and waited.
    Spock hesitated for a long moment. “You’ve been expecting to see me.”
    The Captain nodded. When the Vulcan didn’t continue, he said, “I’ve known something is wrong for several days. First McCoy clammed up, then you. I can tell it’s serious. Want to talk about it?”
    Spock looked away, absorbed in a painting of the Enterprise that hung on the opposite wall. Kirk had to strain to hear him. “I must request leave for an indeterminate amount of time. It is ... a family matter.”
    The Captain took a slow sip of the brandy, and studied his friend. The Vulcan looked tired; there were new lines around his eyes, and an aura of disquiet had replaced the usual calm control. Kirk listened intently, waiting for Spock’ s next words, and was suddenly conscious of something subliminal seeping into his mind, touching, and for a moment he was feeling deep resolution, mixed with guilt and shame. He held his breath, trying to look inward, to focus ... and the contact, if contact it was, and not his imagination, was gone.
    Spock was staring at him. “Jim—you’re not telephathic, I know, but for a moment—
    “I know. I felt it too—for a moment. Long enough to know that you’re determined to go, and that the situation, whatever it is, is pretty bad. But you’re going to have to tell me the rest in words, Spock.”
    “If I could, I would share this with you, Jim. But [22] I am responsible for this ... problem. I must solve it alone.”
    “Something tells me that you’re going to attempt something really hazardous. Am I right?”
    Spock looked down at his hands, repeated, “I must go alone. Please don’t ask me to explain why.”
    Kirk leaned forward, gripped the Vulcan’s shoulder, and shook it. “I don’t know what the problem is, but I know why you won’t tell me. You’re concerned that if I find out how dangerous this project is, I’ll insist on going with you. You’re right. I am.”
    The First Officer shook his head, and his voice was hard. “I will not allow it. I can’t take the responsibility for your life, too. I am going alone.”
    Kirk set the snifter down with a thump. “Dammit, Spock, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but you’ll have to desert to get off this ship without me.”
    Spock’s jaw tightened, and his eyes held anger. Kirk stared into those eyes unflinching, and wondered where in hell Spock was going. Obviously, McCoy knew more than he was telling— Sarpeidon? But that planet doesn’t exist in the present. It blew up. The present ... and the past ... the woman ... and the face on the wall of the cave