the real properties of the Guardian, Captain Kirk. So, I think we’re safe here.”
“Let’s hope so.” Kirk finished the contents of his cup. “Thank you for the coffee. I’d forgotten how good the real stuff tastes.”
“They give us the best here. When are you going to attempt the time portal?”
“Immediately.” Spock’s voice was abrupt, and he got up from the table and left the room.
Vargas looked startled, and Kirk said, “He’s impatient to get started. He didn’t tell you that this relative of his is a child—we can only hope that he’s still alive.”
Vargas’ gaze softened. “I understand better, now. I have a daughter, Anna. I talk to her on the subspace radio sometimes. ...”
She led the way to the Guardian. It stood amid the ruins, resembling nothing so much as a large, irregularly hewn stone doughnut. The primitive shaping gave no hint of the strange power it possessed.
As they approached, it was dull gray, the color of the ruins, and its central hole was clear, allowing them to see the ruined shape of the temple McCoy had pointed out earlier.
Spock was there ahead of them, their kits at his feet, tricorder in hand. The Vulcan had spent weeks [38] here, shortly after the Guardian’s discovery, along with two other scientists—top minds in the Federation—studying the time portal. At the end of their stay, they were still at a loss to say how the Guardian worked; how it channeled its energy into time currents, or where that energy came from. They were unable even to agree on whether the entity was a computer of incredible complexity, or whether it was a life-form. As he stood before it now, Kirk thought privately that man simply wasn’t capable of comprehending the nature of the Guardian—yet.
But man could make use of what he did not understand. Spock walked forward, tricorder ready. “Greetings.” The Vulcan’s voice, usually so matter-of-fact, held awe, and he saluted the stone shape in the manner of his people. “I am Spock, and have traveled with you once before. Can you show me the history of the planet Sarpeidon, that formerly circled the star Beta Niobe?”
It always took a question to evoke a response from the Guardian, and now the stone shape flickered, lighting translucently from within. A deep, strangely warm voice rang out. “I can show you Sarpeidon’s past. It has no future. Behold.”
The middle of the time portal was filled with vapor, then swirling images, too fast for the eye to catch and remember. Suggestions of volcanoes, mammoth reptile-like animals, mud villages, stone cities, seas, boats, armies, steel and glass cities, and finally, a blinding light that made all of them shield their eyes. During the entire presentation, which lasted perhaps a minute and a half, Spock’ s tricorder whirred at double-speed.
The central viewport was clear again, and Kirk joined the First Officer who was bent over the tricorder. “Get it all, Spock?”
“Yes.” The Vulcan’s voice was hollow. “I believe I’ve managed to isolate the correct period during the planet’s last ice age. The neutron dating system used on the paintings is, fortunately, quite accurate. Our [39] problem is not when to jump, but where we shall end up on Sarpeidon’s surface. We cannot search the entire planet.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Kirk glanced at the now-quiescent Guardian. “That’s a “real problem.”
“I have in mind a possible solution. The power of the time portal is vast. The Guardian can probably set us down in the correct location—if I can communicate our desire to it. I shall attempt it.” The Vulcan made a final adjustment to his tricorder, and turned back to face the rough-hewn form. His voice was low, tense.
“Guardian. Can you differentiate between one life-form and another? For instance, can you discern that I am of a different species than my companions?”
“You are of a different species within yourself.” The Guardian intoned. Spock,
“Let’s hope so.” Kirk finished the contents of his cup. “Thank you for the coffee. I’d forgotten how good the real stuff tastes.”
“They give us the best here. When are you going to attempt the time portal?”
“Immediately.” Spock’s voice was abrupt, and he got up from the table and left the room.
Vargas looked startled, and Kirk said, “He’s impatient to get started. He didn’t tell you that this relative of his is a child—we can only hope that he’s still alive.”
Vargas’ gaze softened. “I understand better, now. I have a daughter, Anna. I talk to her on the subspace radio sometimes. ...”
She led the way to the Guardian. It stood amid the ruins, resembling nothing so much as a large, irregularly hewn stone doughnut. The primitive shaping gave no hint of the strange power it possessed.
As they approached, it was dull gray, the color of the ruins, and its central hole was clear, allowing them to see the ruined shape of the temple McCoy had pointed out earlier.
Spock was there ahead of them, their kits at his feet, tricorder in hand. The Vulcan had spent weeks [38] here, shortly after the Guardian’s discovery, along with two other scientists—top minds in the Federation—studying the time portal. At the end of their stay, they were still at a loss to say how the Guardian worked; how it channeled its energy into time currents, or where that energy came from. They were unable even to agree on whether the entity was a computer of incredible complexity, or whether it was a life-form. As he stood before it now, Kirk thought privately that man simply wasn’t capable of comprehending the nature of the Guardian—yet.
But man could make use of what he did not understand. Spock walked forward, tricorder ready. “Greetings.” The Vulcan’s voice, usually so matter-of-fact, held awe, and he saluted the stone shape in the manner of his people. “I am Spock, and have traveled with you once before. Can you show me the history of the planet Sarpeidon, that formerly circled the star Beta Niobe?”
It always took a question to evoke a response from the Guardian, and now the stone shape flickered, lighting translucently from within. A deep, strangely warm voice rang out. “I can show you Sarpeidon’s past. It has no future. Behold.”
The middle of the time portal was filled with vapor, then swirling images, too fast for the eye to catch and remember. Suggestions of volcanoes, mammoth reptile-like animals, mud villages, stone cities, seas, boats, armies, steel and glass cities, and finally, a blinding light that made all of them shield their eyes. During the entire presentation, which lasted perhaps a minute and a half, Spock’ s tricorder whirred at double-speed.
The central viewport was clear again, and Kirk joined the First Officer who was bent over the tricorder. “Get it all, Spock?”
“Yes.” The Vulcan’s voice was hollow. “I believe I’ve managed to isolate the correct period during the planet’s last ice age. The neutron dating system used on the paintings is, fortunately, quite accurate. Our [39] problem is not when to jump, but where we shall end up on Sarpeidon’s surface. We cannot search the entire planet.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Kirk glanced at the now-quiescent Guardian. “That’s a “real problem.”
“I have in mind a possible solution. The power of the time portal is vast. The Guardian can probably set us down in the correct location—if I can communicate our desire to it. I shall attempt it.” The Vulcan made a final adjustment to his tricorder, and turned back to face the rough-hewn form. His voice was low, tense.
“Guardian. Can you differentiate between one life-form and another? For instance, can you discern that I am of a different species than my companions?”
“You are of a different species within yourself.” The Guardian intoned. Spock,
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