Yesterday Son by A. C. Crispin Read Free Book Online Page A

for Spock, who followed at a distance. As soon as they laid their burden on a pile of furs, he left the Doctor and turned back to his First Officer.
    He’d removed his face shield, but his features were still a mask, skin stretched tight over bone, eyes blank, hooded. He’s in shock, Kirk thought, deeply concerned, and that’s not so surprising. To find an adult when we expected a child ... even to find anyone at all. ... How would I feel—react? Probably the same. ... Hesitantly, he put a hand on his friend’s arm. Spock did not acknowledge the gesture outwardly, but there was an easing of tension in the muscles beneath Kirk’s fingers.
    The Captain removed his face shield, pushed back his hood, then returned to McCoy and his patient. Beneath the furs, the young man wore a leather tunic, and McCoy had loosened the front lacings and bared the chest. Beneath a surface layer of dirt and black hair, bones and ribs showed clearly. The Doctor pressed several injections into his patient’s shoulder, and looked up at Kirk. “He should be coming around [52] in a minute. He’s in remarkably good shape for someone who must’ve been living on the edge of starvation for years. It’s incredible he managed to survive at all. I wonder where Zarabeth is?”
    “I don’t see another sleeping place,” Kirk said, glancing around. “Have you given him something to calm him down?” The Captain rubbed his bruised neck as McCoy swabbed the blood off his wrist. “I don’t care to take a chance on subduing him again.” He glanced across the cave at Spock, who was still turned away, and lowered his voice. “He’s inherited some of his father’s strength along with those ears.”
    “I don’t think he’ll struggle when he sees our faces.” McCoy said, thoughtfully running his medical scanner. “I think he was frightened by our face shields—God knows that if you didn’t know what they were, you’d think they were our real features.” He turned his head, addressed the Vulcan. “He should’ve come around by now, Spock. Did you do anything to account for this prolonged unconsciousness?”
    The First Officer shook his head as he approached. He stood over them, not too near, looking down at the younger man.
    “Of course, the struggle may have affected him—he’s malnourished. Jim walloped him good a couple of times, too. ...” McCoy glanced at the Vulcan’s stony lack of expression, and continued under his breath, “Actually, you should be grateful he’s alive, and old enough to take care of himself. ... If I remember, you don’t relate very well to infants.” He ran the scanner again, then nodded. “He’s coming around now.”
    The leather-clad figure stirred and moaned. The eyes opened. Gray, wide with fear, then calming as they slowly took in McCoy’s friendly blue eyes and dark hair, Kirk’s regular features and smile. They traveled upward, glanced at Spock, whose features were shadowed by the hood of his therm-suit, and returned to the two in front of him. The young man [53] sat up a bit unsteadily, rubbing his neck. The eyes were wide now with questions.
    The Captain glanced at his First Officer, still silent and removed, then wryly assumed his best visiting-diplomat manner. “Sorry we didn’t get off to a better start. We should’ve remembered how our face masks would look to someone who hadn’t seen them before. You must be Zarabeth’s son.”
    The younger man nodded, obviously startled, then said haltingly, in the tones of one who has talked only to himself for a long time. “Yes ... I am Zarabeth’s son. I’m Zar.” Then gathering speed, “Who are you? Were you looking for me? Where did you come from?” His voice was pleasant, not as deep as Spock’s, his speech precise.
    “I’m Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. My Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Leonard McCoy.” The Captain gestured at the Doctor, who smiled. The gray eyes moved across the cave, fixed on the Vulcan, as Kirk hesitated.