Free Yesterday Son by A. C. Crispin Page A

me years to save the money to buy it.”
    Spock, who had been sitting nearby, came over and studied the instrument. “A well-preserved example, Doctor Vargas. The tone is excellent.”
    “Do you play, Mr. Spock?” she asked.
    “I did, at one time ... but it has been years.”
    “By the way, thank you for repairing the communications device.”
    “It was no trouble. It needs a complete overhaul, however,” The Vulcan turned to Zar. “I would like to talk to you for a moment.”
    When they reached the library, and privacy, Spock gestured the younger man to a seat. “It will not be easy to explain your presence when we reach the Enterprise ,” he began, without preamble. “Due to your ... appearance, people will regard you as Vulcan, and expect certain behavior from you. I believe that the best course is for you to study Vulcan history and customs so that you’ll know what’s expected of you. I will begin teaching you the language as soon as you feel ready to learn.”
    He paused, then took out several microspools. “These will give you some basic information.”
    [72] Zar couldn’t think of anything to say, so he remained silent.
    Spock raised an eyebrow. “You can read?”
    “Yes.” Zar replied shortly, stung. “My mother was a teacher, among other things, before she was exiled. Didn’t you know that?”
    The lean, saturnine face was remote. “No.”
    “She knew a lot about you ...”
    Spock stood up. “I see no logic in reviewing the past. When you’ve finished those tapes, I will set up a plan for your education. Good night.”
    After the Vulcan left, Zar continued to sit, uncertain of his next move. It had been a long day—was it only this morning he’d awakened on the ledge above the strangers’ camp? He eyed the kitchen table, considered curling up underneath it. He would probably go unobserved—but perhaps it would not be polite. His eyes were beginning to close in spite of himself when McCoy found him.
    “There you are. I came to show you where you can bunk tonight.”
    He followed the Doctor to the recreation room, where a sleeping bag was spread. “I’m afraid you’ll have to make do on the floor, with the rest of us. It isn’t often the archeologists have visitors, and there aren’t many extra beds. These sleeping bags aren’t too bad, though. They’ve got foam inserts, and heating controls.” McCoy demonstrated. “So you shouldn’t be too uncomfortable.”
    Zar was amused. “Doctor McCoy, last night I slept on a rock and ice ledge that was not much wider than I am, with nothing but my fur cloak for covering. I’ll be fine here.”
    “I see your point. Well, good night, then.” McCoy turned to leave, and on impulse, looked back. “Zar ...”
    “Yes?”
    “Don’t let Spock’s ... attitude bother you. That’s just the way it is, with Vulcans.”
    The younger man shook his head ruefully, and [73] sighed. “I should have expected nothing else. My mother told me that he was cold and silent when she first met him, but that later, he was loving and gentle to her. He doesn’t know me yet. I must prove myself, as she did.”
    McCoy was startled, but recovered quickly. With a reassuring smile, he said good night again. Somehow he couldn’t face the thought of sleep, so he went outside.
    With the cold wind lifting his hair, and the starlight easy on his eyes, he paced slowly, considering. His first impulse had been to tell Zar the entire story of the atavachron and its effect on the Vulcan’s metabolism and reactions. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to disillusion the younger man ... and Spock wouldn’t appreciate the interference. But still ... he shook his head, remembering the Vulcan’s expression as he looked at Zarabeth, just before they left her behind, there in that icy inferno. Of course she’d tell Zar about a different Spock than the one he’d met today. Loving and gentle ... Damn. ...
    McCoy leaned against the building, reflecting grimly that Zar’ s