SEVEN

Captain Drax of the Klingon Imperial High Command clung to the shadows near the human's camp. He watched as Captain James Kirk, the bane of the Empire, halted and leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees in an attempt to recover from his quick and impressive sprint through the trees. Adam Cartwright, the brother of Joe, turned toward him as the Starfleet captain arrived. The oldest Cartwright son had been standing near the wagon with his father and seemed to instantly understand what had happened. Apparently, though he did not burn with the same fire, Joe's brother was Duranium bound in cloth. He broke into a run and headed for the structure where his brother lay.

Ben Cartwright followed hard on his heels.

He would like to know this man – this man who fathered such sons.

Drax waited as they entered the structure, already knowing what they would find, in order to know their battle plans.

Kirk was the first to appear. "Fan out!" he shouted. "Find them!"

It was doubtful the Cartwrights or the Federation men would find Curran Theron or the warrior named Joe. But he would. Unlike the Federation slaves who were bound to obey the orders of men too weak and frightened to sit in a captain's chair, once there were no orders a Klingon commander was given reign to use his own mind without being bound by rules and regulations. The human lawman had tied him hand and foot and taken his disruptor, but he had not searched him thoroughly. Drax bent down and freed the handle of the knife he kept concealed in his boot, making the weapon readily accessible. Then he opened his belt buckle and palmed the small scanner hidden within. While he had laid in the wagon with Theron, he had managed to attach another of his hidden tools, a homing device, to the Originator's clothes.

It was beeping now.

Drax turned and plunged into the wood, following its call like a hunter follows sign. As he ran he considered how he had come to this moment and this place. Theron, the Originator, had contacted his superiors and laid out a plan, the likes of which would have astounded Kahless himself. Theron explained how, by using the Guardian of Forever – which the puny humans had usurped and kept to themselves – he had discovered a fixed point in time which was the genesis of the future they now occupied. One man was the crux. One man they all had reason to despise for his interference and his ability to triumph over the Empire.

James T. Kirk.

Theron went on to say that he intended to travel back in time – and this was the part that should have warned him – not to kill the man from whose loins Kirk's lineage sprang, but to take his child and rear it in a warrior's way, training it to set aside peace and to crave destruction and glory.

This Kirk would be a warrior not a peacekeeper.

Drax sighed as he pushed a low tree limb aside and continued on, his eyes trained on the device. James T. Kirk was solely responsible, Theron had said, for what the galaxy had become – weak, listless, and without honor. If Kirk had not defeated the Romulans and his own people, they would have triumphed, bringing strength, control, and order instead.

Not a green targ, he had questioned him. Why not simply kill Kirk outright?

'Think', Theron had replied. 'Think!'

What could be accomplished with a very different Kirk and the resources of a very different Starfleet on their side?

And so he had signed on, along with K'Resh and Ba'Or who were in it for the reward the Originator promised more than anything else, to join in Theron's madness. For it was madness. It would be to his eternal shame that he had not seen the signs of this. Not until it was too late.

Not until he had given his word.

Theron's treachery after the explosion had released him from that bond. K'Resh was dead and buried under a ton of rock, that damned time band still on his wrist. Drax glared at the one he wore. If not for the need of it to return him to his time and home, he would tear it from his flesh lest the very metal contaminate him.

Drax took time to spit. He smirked at the thought of what awaited the Originator when he found him, and then he crouched like a Grishnar cat stalking its prey.

His prey was within his sight.

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Joe lay on the ground, panting hard. He'd come fully awake back in the camp when he'd felt impossibly strong fingers tighten on his throat enough to choke off his air. To his horror and surprise he discovered the man threatening him was none other than Theron Vance, the Albino his father had hired and fired a dozen years before.

Apparently when Theron had a grudge, he held it.

Instead of choking the life out of him, Vance had lifted a finger to his lips and called for silence. Wondering why Theron thought there was a snowball's chance in Hell of him doing what he wanted, Joe's gaze followed his nod to find Anne standing there, her skin drained of color, trembling from head to foot.

It was at that moment, he knew he was dead.

Vance had led them both out of the back of the tent, more than half-supporting him. The man was tough as Hoss and twice as determined. Theron was taking them somewhere. Wherever it was, he'd lay odds it was to torture and kill him, and then to take Anne hostage against his brother and his father who would turn Heaven and Hell upside-down to bring justice.

He'd only just found Adam and now... Joe's eyes sought his wife's frightened gaze and held it. If she could escape, could get away, at least Adam would be there for his child. Adam and, for a time, Pa.

But first Anne had to escape.

He saw her read it in his eyes. She shook her head slowly. Anne's hand went to her belly and she did it again. 'No', she said silently, 'I won't have my child grow up without his father.'

'You have no choice,' he replied in the same way. 'I love you.'

Theron dropped him to the ground, kicked him in the side, and then moved away. Then, he looked down. The Albino was dressed like a gunslinger with a pearl-handled Colt holstered and tied down to his right leg. The black cloth emphasized his pure white hair and skin.

"You were supposed to have been at the bottom of that mine, Joe." He cackled manically. "Whatever is Professor Campbell going to think when he discovers one of the manipulators instead on the wrist of a Klingon!"

Joe's head hurt enough without listening to gibberish. "You're mad!" he spat back.

"Am I?" He seemed to seriously consider it. "If so, I am only mad north-northwest. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw," he smirked.

Adam had read him that. It was Shakespeare. The man was quoting Shakespeare!

"Let my...wife go," Joe pleaded, his hand clutching his ribs where they throbbed. " Do what...you want with me... but...let Anne go."

The Albino rolled his crimson eyes. "We've been through this before, Joseph. I fully intend to kill you, but I have no intention of letting your wife go. She, and your child, are mine to mold."

Joe tried to push himself up. It was a struggle, and if he made it to his feet he knew he would be useless. Still, he had to try.

"You're...not...taking her," he grunted.

Theron struck like a snake, taking him by the throat even as he rose and then holding him, actually lifting him off his feet with that grip.

"And who is going to stop me?" he sneered.

"Me!"

Joe looked. Anne was so close it startled him. Her jaw was set and her eyes colder than he had ever seen. She was backing up, moving away from them.

She'd come up without being heard or seen and she had Theron's pearl-handled gun in her hands.

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Yes! Yes! Drax formed a fist as his lips curled with satisfaction. The woman was as much a warrior as her mate! No wonder Theron so feared their progeny.

Moving closer, the Klingon heard her say. "You get away from my husband, you bastard! Let him go!"

The Originator refused. "He is suffocating now. He can last three minutes without air. One has expired. Surrender the gun and I will let his boots touch the ground."

The woman's eyes narrowed. She had the look of a Sabre bear protecting its offspring. "If I shoot you, you'll drop him now."

"With a crushed windpipe," he countered, his fingers tightening.

Drax saw her falter.

Her only choice was to shoot.

As the thought crossed his mind, Drax noted something out of place to his right. When he looked, he saw nothing – until James T. Kirk rose up for a second to show he was there. Then, to his left, something moved as well. It was Adam Cartwright. Along with the warrior's brother was his father. In their eyes there was no sign of fear.

They were worthy.

The Klingon warrior watched as Kirk moved through the trees, maneuvering himself into a position from which he could attack. The Cartwrights did the same. While stealth was to be admired, caution was not.

Drax stepped out of the trees and shouted "Curran Theron, you are challenged!"

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Leonard McCoy halted when he heard a shout and turned back the way he had come. When there was nothing more, he resumed his passage through the trees. Kirk had run into the camp. He'd met his eyes and said one word. Only one.

Spock.

Their exchange had been brief. From what little Jim had managed to communicate, he guessed it was bad. They knew when they'd used the time manipulators that there had been a risk of being poisoned. Apparently the beings who created the Guardian were stingy and wanted to keep time travel to themselves. McCoy grunted. No, that wasn't fair. They needed to keep it to themselves.

He just wished they'd found a kinder, gentler way to do so.

Kirk had given him quick directions to the place where he had left Spock even as he took off again. It seemed the Vulcan had taken a full dose of the bracelet's venom, either by mistake or by Theron's design. He had no idea what that would do to the poor green-blooded bastard.

Jim had mentioned a bent-over tree and a few other landmarks. As they came into view, the physician quickened his pace. Between Jim's return trip and his into the woods, it had been almost half an hour since the captain had discovered Spock in whatever condition he was in. God alone knew what might have happened in that time. As he passed the tree and sighted the clearing where Jim had left the Vulcan laying, Leonard McCoy stopped.

The clearing was empty.

Spock was gone.

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Jim moved through the undergrowth to join the Cartwrights as soon as he saw Drax make his move.

"What is he doing?" Adam demanded. "There's no time!"

He knew that. He'd looked. Joe's veins were standing out and there was a blue discoloration around his lips and nose.

Kirk gritted his teeth. "He's being a Klingon."

"A what?" Ben Cartwright asked.

As the captain of the Enterprise mentally kicked himself for forgetting the older man had no idea what this was all about, Adam stepped in.

"It's a type of soldier, Pa. Like a samurai or abrafo warrior."

"Warrior or not, he is jeopardizing your brother's life!" Ben's gun was in his hand. He scowled , his finger itching on the trigger. There was no way to get a clear shot.

Kirk felt for the older man. "Give Deets a few more seconds. We can barge in, but if we do, then both Joe and Anne may die. As well as your son's unborn child," he added softly.

For a moment the older man said nothing. He nodded and then pulled his watch from his vest. "Deets has half a minute. Then we go in. Agreed?"

Kirk exchanged glances with Adam. It had to end – one way or the other.

"Agreed."

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Drax did not hesitate, but walked straight past Anne Cartwright to Curran Theron and spit in his face. "You are without honor!"

"Honor mattered little when you signed up," the Originator sneered as the spittle dripped down his cheek.

"Honor is everything! I honored my commander's orders, nothing more." He dropped his voice. "Now, you will honor this man and let him go. He is worth more than all of your valueless kind taken together."

Theron glanced at Joe. Cyanosis painted the warrior's face blue. "And if I don't?"

"I will kill you," he breathed.

Theron looked at him long and hard and then he did something he had not expected. He let go. Joe Cartwright plummeted to the ground at his feet and lay deathly still.

"You may have him," the Originator said. "I will take the woman."

"You will do no such thing," Joe's consort snarled like a brush devil, aiming the gun she held again between Theron's crimson eyes. "You will not threaten my family again!"

Ben Cartwright sprang to his feet and shouted human words. "Anne, no! You'll never forgive yourself!"

The son of steel joined him, revealing himself – sadly – to be less worthy than he had first believed.

"He's right, Anne," Adam Cartwright told her. "I know. I...caused a man's death once... A man who deserved to die. It still haunts me. Life is life."

"No, it's not," the warrior's woman declared, showing her mettle. The gun did not waver.

The Federation captain shot him a glance and then stepped between Theron and the woman. "Anne, give me the gun. Your husband needs you. Put it down and go to him."

The woman of courage blinked and then her eyes went to her mate. After a moment, she stood down. It was not a surrender. It did not diminish her honor.

No matter what race, a woman's place was to look out for her own.

As Anne Cartwright moved, Drax looked from one human to the other. Their honor demanded they not take a life unless their own life was threatened. He had encountered it before, this mercy they spoke of. On the battlefield they were as ferocious as any race he had battled, but off the field, they failed.

He would not.

It took four steps. By the time Drax reached the Originator, his knife was out. Catching the worm by the throat, he squeezed, giving him ten heartbeats to experience what the warrior Joe Cartwright had.

And then he gutted him like a bireQtagh he was.

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McCoy had been panting when he broke through the trees. Now, he was breathless. Drax, their former prisoner, had just murdered Curran Theron. As he watched, the Klingon dropped the Originator's lifeless form to the forest floor next to Joe Cartwright. He could immediately see something was wrong with the young man.

Joe's coloring was off and he was still, so very still.

He reached him at the same time as his brother and father. Adam knelt before he could, pressing his hand against his brother's chest. When he looked up, his gaze was a mix of horror and hope.

"His heart's beating."

McCoy nodded. He'd seen Joe's chest rise and fall. It was the lack of air he was worried about. That, and the damage it might have done.

"See to your sister-in-law," he grunted as he set to work, startling the young man who seemed for a moment not to remember he had one.

"Yeah. Anne." Adam rose. "Pa, I'm going to get Anne."

Ben Cartwright stood close by. He made no move to kneel or get in his way, but kept a silent vigil as McCoy set to work. He nodded agreement to his oldest son and then his eyes returned to his youngest.

The doctor met those eyes. "I'll do all I can."

Around him there was chaos. He heard Adam speaking in low, soothing tones to Anne. Kirk was yelling. Probably at Drax. Even though in his heart of hearts Jim would have wanted the bastard dead who had done so much damage to this fine family, he knew his friend. Jim could not and would not stomach murder.

There would be whatever the Klingon equivalent of Hell was to pay.

Pushing all such thoughts aside, he turned back to his patient. Joe's throat was swollen and he was having difficulty breathing. In this century there was only one thing to do.

"Ben," he called, his eyes rising to the older man.

"Yes?"

"I need your permission."

Ben frowned. "For?"

McCoy sighed. "A tracheotomy. It's a simple operation. It will help him breathe."

"I know it," he nodded. "You have my permission."

With that, Doctor McCoy turned back to his patient and got to work.

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Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise stared down Captain Drax of the Klingon Imperial High Command. Well, stared 'up'.

'That was uncalled for," he said.

Drax's lip lifted in a sneer. "I do not agree. There was a threat. It was eliminated."

"Theron was not an 'it'. He was – "

"A madman. A murderer and a coward. One who would use a woman and a ruin a child to create his own twisted vision of the future." The Klingon raised on black eyebrow. "Or am I wrong?"

Kirk scowled, some of the wind taken from the sails of his righteous indignation. "No, you're not wrong. But – "

"That is the difference between us, James T. Kirk, between human and Klingon. Your sense of honor is hampered by mists of mercy that cloud your eyes. Our eyes are open wide. There is evil. There is good. One deserves to live. The other does not." His dark eyes flicked to where Theron's body lay, covered now with a blanket. "Theron did not deserve to live. Joe Cartwright did."

How could he argue with that?

"Drax, there's self-defense and there's murder."

"The warrior could not defend himself. His capture was gutless; his captor spineless. I would not let Joe Cartwright die." Drax sought his gaze and held it. "Would you have done differently?"

Would he? Would he have let Ben's son die because of his high-minded principles? Because he refused to dispense death to a creature who not only threatened Joe and his family, but all of time?

Humbled, he replied. "I don't know."

The Klingon tilted his head. His eyes narrowed. "Do you know why, Kirk, the Originator wanted Joseph Cartwright dead?"

It bothered him. None of it had seemed to make any sense. Why Joe? What was so special about a man who would live his life on one plot of Nevada land, marry, father children, rear them, come into his old age, and pass on as all had to do. There was no monumental accomplishment that they could find. No mountains moved or climbed.

He shook his head. "No."

"Tell me of your life, human. Tell me where and who you come from."

Kirk balked. "Why?"

Drax sneered again. "Humor me."

"It's the usual story," he shrugged. "My ancestors were European settlers on the North American continent of Earth. I was born in Iowa. My family came there, oh, a hundred or so years back. Before that, they lived in the West and pioneered the frontier in the nineteenth century. I don't recall any names but..." Kirk stopped. He turned and looked at Bones where he was working on Joe Cartwright. "No."

"Yes."

He pivoted back to face Drax.

"It was you, Kirk, whom Theron meant to use as a weapon to destroy this universe you now serve. The birth of Joe Cartwright's son is the fixed point in time from which you sprang."

"Joe...is my..."

"Many times removed great-sire."

Kirk blinked, taking that in. "Even so," he countered. "Why would Theron fixate on me? I'm not that important."

Drax actually laughed – well, more barked his amusement. "Stopping the advance of parasites on Deneva that would have driven the galaxy to madness, triumphing over the Romulans and, yes, my people as well, halting the advance of how many hostile races and their threat to the Federation?" The Klingon shook his dark head. "There is more, Kirk, so much more. These are things you cannot yet know."

He was silent a moment. Then he asked, "Did Spock know?"

Drax nodded. "One thing our people have in common, James Kirk, is the worth of a comrade. I am sorry for your loss."

He hadn't admitted to himself that Spock was dead, but he did have to acknowledge the Vulcan was lost. Lost in madness and lost somewhere in time with no sure way to discover where and when. When he returned to twenty-two-sixty-nine he intended to petition Starfleet to allow him to go to Gateway and use the Guardian to search for him. After all, it was Spock who identified the danger to all of them and took the singular risk to set time right. Rather than branding him a criminal, he should be given a commendation.

He would be, Kirk told himself. Once he found him and brought him back.

"Kirk?"

He shook his head. He had no words.

Drax nodded, accepting his silence. After an interval, the Klingon said, "I would return to my people, James Kirk. Will you attempt to stop me?"

Kirk looked at him. A wry smile twisted his lips. "Somehow I don't think a Wild West jail could hold you, Drax, and right now the Federation has no jurisdiction. Though I need that time manipulator..."

The soldier drew himself up to his full height, which was about the same as a mountain. His heels came together and his hand shot out. "I salute you, James T. Kirk. May we have an opportunity to meet in battle." Drax actually smiled this time. "I would make your death a glorious one. As to this," the Klingon paused and then added as he twisted the time manipulator he wore. "I need it more."

Drax vanished in a twinkle of starlight.

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Adam Cartwright halted outside his baby brother's door. It had been three days since the cave-in. They'd returned to the Ponderosa only the night before as Doctor McCoy had insisted they let Joe recover before moving him. The tracheotomy had saved his life, but left him weak. Due to Joe's other injuries, it had taken most of that time to stabilize him enough that he could endure the ride. A weary smile curled his lips. This was the first opportunity he would have to sit with his brother alone. Anne had rarely left Joe's side. Earlier, he'd come up to see how he was doing and found her in a deep sleep in the chair beside the bed. When he called her she hadn't wakened, and so he had lifted her up and carried her to the next room and placed her on the bed.

In Hoss' room.

His father had kept it as a shrine. It was filled with the items his middle brother had used in life that were now memorialized in death. Hoss' white felt fur hat was there, and his gun and holster. So was his leather vest. Each was left in its usual place as if his brother might return any minute to don them.

He'd had tears in his eyes as he closed the door and it had taken him about an hour to compose himself before he could return to look in on Joe. That was what he was doing now. Checking on his remaining brother. As he paused outside the door Adam became aware of a voice coming from inside the room. Thinking perhaps Joe had wakened, he gripped the knob and opened it.

And found Jim Kirk sitting in the chair beside his sleeping, but restless little brother.

"The fever is lower," Kirk said quietly as he rose. "Bones thinks he's past the crisis."

"Bones?"

Kirk smiled as he approached. "It's what I call Doctor McCoy. Short for – "

"Sawbones." He'd tried that with Doc Hickman once. The result wasn't pretty.

The blond man nodded toward the hall. Adam agreed and they stepped outside.

"You're leaving, I hear," Adam said.

"Yes. We need to get back to our time. We..." He drew a breath. "I need to look for Spock."

"I could come with you."

Kirk shook his head. "Your place is here, at your brother's side. At your father's." He grinned. "And with your nephew, Uncle Adam."

He ran a hand along the back of his neck. "It's just, I feel I owe Spock so much. I feel the need to repay him for –"

"You know what Spock would have to say about that."

He held Kirk's gaze. "He's a good man."

Jim Kirk agreed. "So are you. So is your brother. I'm...grateful, in spite of everything, that I got to meet you all."

The way Kirk said it, gave it more weight than it deserved. "Any special reason?" he asked.

"No. Nothing special. Just...thanks."

Adam watched Kirk depart and then turned back to his brother's room. He entered and went to sit by Joe's side. There was a bloody bandage around his brother's throat. The doctor had removed the stem that had let him breathe only the day before. It would need to be changed yet again tonight. Adam drew in a deep breath and turned to look around the room that had been Joe's the entire time he had lived at the Ponderosa. He was there now instead of in the wing that he and Anne occupied, as it was easier to look after him. They were there, just like in Hoss' room, stuffed in a blue and white bay rum jar, written in the worry lines of the Indian chief's portrait...

The memories.

"Adam."

His brother's voice was soft. Barely audible.

"Yes, Joe?" he asked, leaning in close.

"Are you..." Joe coughed.

Adam caught him when the fit didn't stop and then gave him some water to drink. "You just keep quiet, Joe. Doctor McCoy said you shouldn't talk much for a few days."

"Have to..."

He shook his head. "Nothing is more important than your health."

A half-smile curled his brother's lips. "This...is."

Adam put the glass down on the bedside table. He caught his brother's shoulder with his hand and said, sternly, in his best Ben Cartwright voice while wagging a finger, "One question, young man, and that's all."

Joe laughed – and coughed again. "Just...one." His brother's green eyes grew moist. "Are you...home?"

Adam glanced around again, hearing the memories whisper along with the wind through the Ponderosa pines. Outside the moon was shining, lighting a land he knew – even now – like the back of his hand. Pa was in the great room, sound asleep in the chair where he had kept vigil for them all night after night, year after year, waiting on three wayward boys to find their way home.

How could he ever leave again?

Adam squeezed his brother's fingers.

"Yes, Joe. I'm home."