3: THE END OF YESTERDAY

He took shape inside a snowfall so thick that for a moment he seemed to be wrapped in an impenetrable cloak of white. Disoriented, he struggled for a foothold on a glistening plane of ice, at the same time reaching up to snap his thermal face shield into place.

The specially treated barrier allowed him to see more clearly, especially when a vicious gust of wind swelled up around him. Though it almost knocked him over, it did momentarily disrupt the heavy snowfall. Rapidly he scanned the area. Unless Taylor was correct, and the sensors had been malfunctioning, he expected her to be nearly within arm's reach. He hadn't counted on materializing in a blizzard.

Had she been caught off guard in it, too?

He was about to signal the Copernicus for an updated scanner report when a dark flash of movement about twenty meters away caught his attention. Turning, he forced his way against the wind in pursuit of what he'd seen.

Yes: through a blinding rush of snow and ice that pelted him mercilessly from all sides, he saw a fur-clad figured that could have been no one else. For reasons he could not fathom, she was moving not toward shelter but away from it, her huddled figure struggling up what appeared to be a steep, gale-swept incline. As he began to follow, she paused and stood, motionless, at the very edge, looking down as if mesmerized by the swirling patterns of the blowing snow.

Then, almost imperceptibly, she began to lean forward.

"Zarabeth, no!" His shout came so spontaneously that it startled even him for a moment. Whether she heard him through the visor, or over the screaming gusts of arctic wind, he had no way of knowing. For some unspecified reason, she hesitated just long enough for him to lunge across the distance that separated them and close both gloved hands around her wrists. Vaguely he remembered his First Officer's appeal to luck. Irrational though it had seemed at the time, it had proven ironically prescient.

At the ravine's edge, the wind was so strong it almost sent them both spiraling to their deaths. Mustering every ounce of strength in his upper body, Spock threw himself backward, dragging her along with him. As she spun around in his grasp, she turned and looked directly into his visor. Her expression was stunned, uncomprehending. A moment later she had crumpled against him in a faint.

Driven by pure adrenalin, he hoisted her off the frozen ground and forged a path through the waist-high drifts. He made his way to the cave by a combination of instinct and memory long ago cemented by dreams. As he descended with her into the cave, the welcome heat rose to surround them, rapidly making his visored hood and insulated jacket stifling. Hastily he moved through the familiar space and rested her atop her bed of furs, then pulled away his protective gear and covered her with it.

Her limbs felt loose and heavy, but her face, though pale and wind-chapped, looked strangely peaceful in her unconscious state. Yet she was cold, so cold. Vigorously, in silence, he rubbed her hands, her arms. Sensations from long ago flooded his senses. It was as if he could still feel those same arms wrapped so tightly around him, their entwined bodies settled deep among those same sheltering hides.

Slowly, he moved closer to her, his hands closing again on her wrists. A powerful physical sensation shivered up his arms and triggered an equally acute response in his central nervous system. For reasons he could not quite define, his chest constricted and his own skin felt flushed and dry.

Suddenly, her fingers twitched and dug into his arm. Spock leaned over her so that his face hovered directly over hers.

"Zarabeth," he whispered. "Zarabeth, I have returned."

Her eyes snapped open an instant before her name left his lips. For a moment, he saw comprehension, relief dawn in them. Then, to his surprise, she seemed to shrink from him. Shaking her head, she freed her hands and stuck the air between them with both fists.

"No! No, I won't!"

"Zarabeth!" Startled, he recaptured her hands and attempted to subdue them. A dark possibility intruded on his mind. Had he returned too late, only to find her driven insane by her misery and grief?

To his relief, her convulsive movements slowed, and the color slowly returned to her cheeks. Her expression, however, was one of savage resistance.

"It's just another dream," she murmured, thrashing her head as if she were frantically trying to clear it. "They come to me every night. I won't give into them! I won't lose myself to a fantasy. I...can't." This time, he steadied her by gripping only one of her arms. His free hand rose to her face and wiped away the tears that now fell freely across his sleeve. "No. Zarabeth, no. It is not a dream. Look at me. Can you not see that I have changed? If you were dreaming, I would still be as I was then."

She stopped struggling and looked at him - frowning, bewildered. "I remember now. I was trapped by the wind - I felt ill. Couldn't keep my balance. Or...or maybe I really did fall. Is that it? Have I passed to the other side? Were you waiting for me there?"

Spock shook his head, relaxing his grip so that she sank back down against the rough-hewn pillows. "I am as alive as you are."

At last, her gaze cleared and she stared down at the blue thermal jacket draped across her middle. She sat up so sharply that it slid to the floor. "Then it really is you! You've come back to me - as I always knew you would."

Desperately she reached for him, brushing her fingers over his cheeks, his lips, his hair. The tears began again, along with sobs that shuddered against his chest while he held her in place. Next, she pulled him down beside her, nestling him among the primitive bedclothes, her lips devouring his. The fear he'd sensed in her had now given way to a pleasure so transcendent that he felt her emotion reverberate throughout his own body.

Only one thing did not make sense to him. She was the one crying. Spock could therefore conceive of no logical reason why his own face should be wet.

When they finally broke apart, he studied her for a long moment. No, she had not changed very much, if at all. There was a weariness about her, and perhaps she seemed a little paler than he remembered. But years had not passed in her world, as they had in his.

"Zarabeth, there is something I must know. How long have I been away?"

"Mmm...hard to say. Every day is the same here...I try to keep track, but I don't always succeed. Especially lately - I've been ill. But I think it has been a few weeks. Maybe a month."

"I tried to spare you a long solitude. I worried that I might have failed."

"I admit it's been more difficult than you - or I - ever would have imagined. Still, it doesn't matter now. For so long I saw you in my dreams. Always I'd awake and have to face the cold again. Now my aloneness is what seems like a dream." Her weary smile flickered, then faded as she began to think out loud. "You said before that you had changed. Does that mean things are different between us, too? Is there another, back in your own time?"

He shook his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded husky and strange, even to himself. But the words came freely, expressing a truth he had never openly acknowledged before.

"Zarabeth...in all the years I have been away, there has never been any other. And now, there will not be."

"I believe you." She stroked his temple, and he noticed fresh tears glistening in her lashes. "Because I know that if some other traveler from the stars had stumbled upon me here and taken me back to the most populated planet in the entire universe, I never would have searched for anyone but you. And I would have waited as long as it took for you to find me again. And now you have."

"It has taken me many years to discover a way not only to return to this time, but to bring you forward into mine. However, I believe I now have a sound method to remove you from your imprisonment. Your exile is over."

"Are you saying that I can leave? With you?"

"Yes. We shall not use the Atavachron, so whatever damage it was programmed to do cannot touch you. In my time, Sarpeidon itself, along with all that harmed you before, no longer exists. I also have a fully staffed medical unit awaiting our arrival on board my ship. You have nothing more to fear."

He saw a flicker of anxiety crumple her brow, then disappear as she steeled herself and pushed the furs away. "I'm not afraid. Actually, I would rather risk death than try to live in this place another day. I know I could not survive losing you for a second time."

Nodding, Spock retrieved his gear, then offered his hand and pulled her to her feet beside him. "In that case, let us go. Now. Is there anything you wish to take with you?"

"Actually, there is one thing." She left him for a moment, then returned with a small carved box, clearly not from this time. She had brought it with her, he surmised, a hypothesis she quickly confirmed. "Some remnants from my own time. From the family I lost."

"Very well." Spock donned his thermal jacket and touched the communicator affixed to its collar. "Commander Taylor. Two to beam directly to sickbay. Perform diagnostic bioscan en route."

"Sickbay? Is anything wrong, sir?"

"Negative. A precautionary measure, at best."

"Coordinates locked in. We're looking forward to your return, Captain."

"Acknowledged. Spock out."

Standing a few feet apart, they watched one other dissolve.

Several hours later, with the Copernicus cruising safely through its own time at a modest impulse speed, Spock returned to Deck Seven, where all 75 crewmembers, including himself, resided. Taylor, perceptive enough to be both discreet and pragmatic, had installed Zarabeth in the guest quarters closest to his own.

He touched the buzzer to request entry, but got no response. Surmising that she did not know how to voice-activate the door, he punched in the captain's override command and stepped inside.

She stood motionless at the rear of the cabin, staring at a viewscreen filled with dazzling blue-white stars. Though her back was to him, he saw that she was wearing one of Taylor's off-duty outfits, a light green tunic with sleeves that tapered into long, narrow points. The garment fit her tolerably well; Spock found himself momentarily jarred by the sight of her so fully integrated into his own time, his own world, when only hours ago she had been part of a history, and a planet, long vanished.

Somehow, though, everything seemed as it should be.

"I came to inform you that the ship has returned to the present. I trust that the journey had no ill effects on you?"

"None-and Michaela Taylor told me where we were." She nodded without taking her eyes from the screen. Belatedly he realized that her unbroken gaze was motivated not by awe, but sorrow. "I've just been looking at what remained of my world. Not much left, is there?"

"When the sun went nova, the planets nearest it were also destroyed, leaving the debris you see now. It is the expected course of such events."

"Maybe, but to me it's a little overwhelming. To think that every place, every person I knew is gone, and that I'm both the first and last of my kind. That can't be a very common experience, even in this place."

"You are correct. The loss of a populated world does not occur very often, at least in known regions."

"It wasn't a perfect world, but it was mine. I suppose I'll always mourn for it...for everything I knew."

"Understandable. Yet it also brought you much pain."

"In the end, yes. Hard as it might be to believe now, I was happy there once. It seems so long ago." Finally, she looked up at him with a rueful smile. "And I suppose it was. Spock, can I show you something?"

"Of course." He waited while she retrieved the carved box she'd carried on board and placed it in the middle of the bed. Her hand shook a little as she raised the heavy lid.

"I've never shown these to anyone before," she told him. "I didn't even look at them myself very often. The pain was too great."

One by one, she handed him the objects. First came a few pieces of jewelry, including a pendant fashioned around a remarkable stone. Deep within its center, a tiny flame seemed to shimmer and twist.

"This was my mother's," she explained. "She'd never been strong-I take after my father more in that respect. She died before the worst happened , almost as through she knew what was coming. In some ways she was luckier than the rest of my family, though I couldn't know that at the time. My father was quite different." From the cloth lining of the box she withdrew an oblong metal ornament with a vaguely military design. "This was given to my father for bravery, when he served our first Prefect. When Zor Khan took the state by force, I had to hide this-possessing any remnants of the old regime was punishable by a long imprisonment. It was still hidden when they sent me away, but in a sense I was punished for it anyway." "And your father was sent away, as you were?"

"I don't know. He disappeared, along with his two brothers. Part of me has always hoped that they found a way to exist in the past...that my father was able to make another life for himself, but I can't truly believe it."

"It is not impossible. You are proof of that."

"Yes. I suppose I am." She placed the medal back into the box; no need to conceal it now. The last item she drew out, a sphere with a series of odd protrusions and even stranger markings, was totally unrecognizable to Spock at first. As she turned it around in her hand, he realized it must be some sort of childhood toy.

"My brother may have fared the worst of us all. It wasn't in his nature to hide his anger, his outrage. He paid dearly for that. Zor Khan sent him through the Atavachron first. But Argus wouldn't stay. He didn't believe that anything would happen to him if he came through again. So he did. He came back through to find me." Dropping the keepsake back in the box, she scrubbed away the tears that coursed freely down her cheeks. Spock gazed down at his hands, moved by the force of her anguish.

"He died, then."

"The worst of it is that I don't even know. Zor Khan forced the rest of us to watch what would happen if we dared to attempt a similar escape. We saw him lying there for hours, writhing in pain, begging for someone to put an end to his suffering. It was almost as if he were aging hundreds of years in hours. And there was nothing any of us could do. Eventually Zor Khan tossed him back through and left him there. I have no idea if he lived or died in some other time."

"Where was he sent?"

"I don't know. No one was permitted to see the environment Zor Khan chose for him, or for any of us. For a long time after I went to the cave, I searched for him, thinking perhaps he had ended up in my time." A sudden idea struck her. "Spock, is there any way to find out? Perhaps in the future, when you visited, there were records."

He shook his head. "While we were on the planet's surface, the Enterprise downloaded a good deal of data from your Library's databanks. In the years since, I have searched the records many times, but I found no reference to you, or to your family."

"I would have expected as much. The Tyrant was very selective in what he allowed to be recorded."

"There is, however, a record of Zor Khan's death. You may find it interesting that his body was discovered in the Library, little more than two years into his reign. The identity of his assassin was never determined. Apparently, there was little inquiry into the precise circumstances of the murder."

"So we were avenged after all. And my civilization did survive Zor Khan. For so long, I wondered if he would destroy everything we'd worked for."

"It not only survived, it flourished. With the end of Zor Khan's dictatorship, your government finally adopted a more democratic system. Scientific progress accelerated and the population achieved greater personal and economic stability than ever before. Eventually, even the Atavachron was used for ethical purposes. Just before the destruction of your planet, it saved millions of lives. Zarabeth, it is only a theory, but I believe that what befell you and your family provided the impetus for change on a larger scale than anyone could have imagined. Your sacrifice was not forgotten."

She closed the box and sat motionless on the edge of the bed for a long time. "I only wish I could forget."

"Perhaps one day, you will find resolution. I understand it is the normal psychological process for emotional beings."

"I'm sure you're right." Eventually, she rose and put the box away in a drawer, tucking it in beside the new clothing Taylor had provided. "I'll never forget them," she said finally. "But now, thanks to you, I have my life back. And I do intend to make the most of it."

"Your optimism is well-founded. You are intelligent, capable, and according to my medical staff, in excellent physical condition in spite of the deprivations you have suffered. A myriad of opportunities will exist once you have acclimated yourself to this environment. My crew and I shall, of course, assist you in any way we are able."

"Do you mean there's a limit to how long I can stay here?"

"In a manner of speaking. The Copernicus is scheduled to terminate its mission in approximately two months. Everyone on board will be reassigned."

"And then? What will you do?"

"Although my work on the Copernicus has been scientifically rewarding, I shall not seek command of another vessel. At this juncture, it seems likely that I will be offered a post as governor of a space station or a small Federation outpost. However, for a variety of reasons, the diplomatic corps currently seems the most reasonable option."

"I'm sure you'd make a fine ambassador." She scanned his face with a vaguely troubled expression. "And what will I do?"

"At the moment, I have taken care of some small matters of a practical nature. I have applied on your behalf for displaced persons status, which the Federation automatically offers to survivors of destroyed worlds. I must forewarn you that it may take some time for even the preliminary steps to be completed. Your circumstances, after all, are somewhat unusual."

"I agree."

"Of course, there is one way to expedite the process. If you were to affiliate yourself with someone who already enjoys accredited Federation standing, certain steps may be omitted."

"Affiliate myself? Do you mean marry?"

"That is one possibility, though not the only one."

"Oh." She bit back a smile of sudden understanding. "That does present a slight problem. Where would I find someone to marry on such short notice? After all, I'm a total stranger here."

"That is not precisely true. You have already interacted with several members of my crew, all of whom appear to have developed a decidedly positive attitude toward you."

"And I suppose that as captain of the ship, you could always order someone to fill that role."

"Certainly. It could be accomplished almost at once."

"I suppose it's the only practical option, then. Do you think I'll like this brave volunteer?"

"Affection would not be a requisite condition so far as the legalities are concerned."

"Still, it would matter to me."

He paused to tug down the front of his uniform shirt. "I fully expect that the candidate I have selected would be pleasing to you."

"The only way to know for sure would be to let him ask me." She crossed the room and gingerly slipped her hands around his. "Will you ask me, Spock?"

"You have already indicated that you are in agreement with my recommendation." He cleared his throat. "I see little advantage in asking a question to which the answer is a certain affirmative."

"Are you sure about that? After all, you've pointed out several times that I am an emotional being. Wouldn't that make me unpredictable by definition?"

"Very well, then. Zarabeth...I have not brought you from one form of confinement only to deliver you into another. There is no reason you must remain here if you would prefer to take another direction. However, if it would please you, I believe it is my duty to invite you to become my wife."

"You see? It was necessary for you to ask the question. Because I'm afraid I couldn't possibly accept."

It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to smile at his look of horror. "I am afraid I do not comprehend."

"It's very simple. I couldn't agree if you've asked me only to fulfill an obligation. If it were something you had wished for-as I have-then of course there is no offer I would ever agree to more readily."

Slowly, his fingers tightened around hers. His face took on a dark, greenish cast that she recognized as a blush. "It is my wish," he said quietly. "It has been since the day we parted. However, you must realize that a life with me may not be as easy as you imagine. I am not like other men...either from my world, or yours."

"Then be the man you are...the only man I've ever wanted." Stepping closer to him, she lifted his hand and placed it against her middle. "And there is something you must know, too. Your doctors did find one abnormality on the bioscan. They agreed that I should tell you myself."

The moment his palm made contact with her, he understood why the connection between them had remained so intense. The joining of their bodies, as well as their minds, so long ago had produced a bond strong enough to outlast five millennia.

"If it is a son, I had hoped you might agree to call him Jarrod. That way, at least some aspect of my family will live on, even if they'll never know it." She frowned, trying to interpret his stunned expression. "Are you displeased?"

His hand tensed, moved, and finally relaxed against the spot where their child lay, slowly developing. "I am not displeased. Only...I had not expected it to be possible."

"Apparently you were wrong."

"No doubt there are many areas of knowledge about which we must both undertake further research." His lips curved, offering the hint of a smile.

"I'm looking forward to it. And yes, I would be proud to marry you-but there is one condition; that you stay with me now. I don't want to sleep alone another night, ever. I'm afraid that when I wake again, all this will have disappeared, and I'll be back where I was - cold, forgotten, dying. And so far from you."

"That will not happen." He drew her closer, his movements as cautious as if she were made of glass. "Nevertheless, I shall remain with you. Tonight, tomorrow. Always."

"I've dreamed of those words so many times. You probably don't dream in the same way I do."

His hands smoothed the sides of her face. "In this case," he told her, "I have."

Note: The story continues on fanfiction.net: Part 2:

http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1467249

Part 3:

http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1490541