1930
Kirk walked through the darkness with Edith, hand-in-hand, after serving the late meal at the mission. Four days ago, Spock had informed him of an unthinkable possibility, and he had realized that while he would have to keep Edith under observation, he would also need to keep his emotional distance from her, for his own sake. He knew that, but so far, he’d been completely incapable of doing so.
“Edith?” Kirk asked. The day had been unseasonably temperate, and even after night had fallen, the air hadn’t cooled much.
“Yes, Jim?” Edith said, the sound of her speaking his name like music to him.
“Tell me, why do you do what you do?” he asked. “At the mission, I mean.” He appreciated what she had done for him and Spock, and also what she did for all those others in need.
“Because it’s necessary,” she said. “Because sometimes people need a helping hand.”
“But why do you feel you have to provide that helping hand?” Kirk asked.
“Doesn’t everybody feel that?” Edith said. “I’m not claiming that everybody does something about it, but don’t people generally want to help their neighbors?”
“In a perfect world,” Kirk said.
“No,” Edith said. “In a perfect world, people wouldn’t just want to help their fellow man, they’d actually do it. But that day will come.”
“Why do you think so?” Kirk said, genuinely curious as to the source of her insight.
“Because we’re all connected,” she said. “We all live and die together.”
“‘Any man’s death diminishes me,’” Kirk quoted, “‘because I am involved in mankind.’”
“Yes!” Edith said excitedly. “John Donne. ‘Meditation Seventeen.’ I love that piece. That’s one of my favorites.”
Kirk smiled. He should have known she’d have an appreciation for Donne. “Do you know this?” he asked her. “‘All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by’?”
“No, I don’t,” Edith said, “but I like it.”
“It’s called ‘Sea-Fever,’ by John Masefield,” Kirk told her, and then recited the first stanza.
“I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.”
“That’s lovely,” Edith said. They had reached their apartment building, and they started up the steps. At the front door, Kirk noticed that the light in the arch had been replaced. Inside, Edith pulled off her hat, then began to take off her cloak. He helped her with it. As she draped it over her arm, she asked, “Do you sail, Jim?”
“I like to travel,” he said.
“I haven’t traveled much,” she said as she checked her mailbox. “I mean, I came over here from England, but that’s about it. One day I’d like to see the world, though.”
“Why don’t you?” Kirk asked. Together, they walked into the front hall and began up the stairs.
“The mission,” she said. “I’m needed here.”
“Is that it?” Kirk asked.
“Well, what’s the use of seeing new places,” Edith said, “if you don’t have someone to share them with?”
“It can be rewarding on your own too, but…I know what you mean,” Kirk said. They reached the top of the stairs and walked along the second floor to the next flight up. As they ascended, Kirk asked, “If you did travel, where would you want to go?”
“I’d want to see every place,” Edith said. “Greece, Russia, the Orient, Australia…the moon.”
“The moon?” Kirk said. “You really believe mankind will leave Earth, don’t you? That’s amazing.” He couldn’t help laughing, both delighted and astonished by Edith’s vision.
“Why?” she asked as they reached the third floor. “What is so funny about man reaching for the moon?”
“How do you know?” he asked her.
“I just know, that’s all,” she insisted. “I feel it. And more: I think that one day, they’re going to take all the money that they spend now on war and death—”
“And make them spend it on life,” Kirk finished.
“Yes,” Edith said with a smile. She walked the rest of the way down the hall to her apartment. Kirk followed and they stood together by the door. “You see the same things that I do. We speak the same language.”
“The very same,” Kirk said. He knew that he should leave, that he should go back down the stairs to the apartment he shared with Spock. He knew that, but he leaned forward and kissed Edith anyway. Her arms came up around his neck, her cloak and purse flopping against his back. His hands went to her waist and pulled her close. They kissed each other deeply, passionately. He smelled the delicate scent of her flesh, heard the rush of her breathing.
When they parted, Edith reached into her purse for the key to her apartment. She unlocked the door, then pushed it open and stepped inside. When she looked back at him, he said, “Good night, Edith.”
She said, “Come in?”
He gazed at her for a long time, knowing again what he should do, what he must do. But he still walked forward and into her arms, pushing the door closed behind him. They moved into each other’s arms and kissed again.
It took a long time for them to get to the bed, and an even longer time to leave it.
Midnight had passed two hours ago, and still the captain had not returned to the apartment. Spock had heard his voice outside in the hall earlier, as well as that of Keeler. He’d heard their footfalls as they’d climbed the stairs to this floor, and then again as they’d mounted to the next. Spock recalled the decision he and the captain had made to keep Keeler under surveillance as much as possible, but he also knew that all this time the captain spent with her had as much to do with his feelings for her.
As Spock labored over the repairs to the mnemonic memory circuit, moving around the room the various components, his concern for the captain grew. Whether or not Edith Keeler died, Spock felt confident now that he and the captain would be able to stop McCoy. And when they did, they would return to the twenty-third century—which meant, regardless of Keeler’s fate, Jim would lose this woman that he so obviously loved.
Well versed in the classics, Spock knew the quote by Alfred, Lord Tennyson: “’Tis better to have loved and lost/Than never to have loved at all.” Perhaps the captain had considered this, and had made the conscious decision to enjoy whatever time he could with Keeler. Perhaps he believed that he would gain more from what would necessarily be a brief relationship than he would lose.
Spock reached to the tall dresser, to where he had added more equipment to the circuit. He had averaged eight hours of work each of the past four nights not only repairing the damage done, but augmenting his design with a layer of relays and buffers that should guard against overloads. He had confirmed that a significant portion of data from one of the timelines had been lost the other night as a result of feedback. He would make sure that did not happen again.
Taking an input power line from the equipment he’d placed atop the tall dresser, Spock strung a wire across the top of the doorway and over to the light fixture on the wall. He screwed an adapter into the empty socket, then plugged the cord into it. Returning to the tricorder on the nightstand at the center of the room, he activated that new portion of the circuit, testing its power consumption and stability. He heard a familiar buzz and whine, but nothing that indicated a threat to the new components.
Spock chose one of McKenna’s tools and began adjusting the tricorder, tuning the added connection. As he did, he heard footsteps approaching out in the hall, and a moment later the door opened. The captain entered and closed the door.
Without even offering a greeting, he asked, “How long before we get a full answer?”
“I’ll need at least two more days before I dare make another attempt,” Spock said as he continued to adjust the tricorder.
“McCoy could’ve been in the city a week now for all we know,” the captain said, clearly agitated. Spock thought that the pressure not only of righting the timeline, but of losing Edith Keeler one way or another, had begun taking its toll on him. For his own part, Spock also remained aware that the doctor might already have arrived in the past. “And whatever he does that affects her and changes history could happen tonight or tomorrow morning.”
“Captain,” Spock said, sitting back in his chair and momentarily halting his work on the tricorder, “our last bit of information was obtained at the expense of thirty hours’ work in fused and burned circuits.” It had taken him that long to replace the destroyed components.
“I must know whether she lives or dies, Spock,” the captain said. “I must know what to do.”
“Though we may not know precisely what action to take,” Spock said, “we do have a general idea. We must stop McCoy from altering the timeline. To that end, we must find him, and when we do, isolate him from his surroundings, and most especially from Edith Keeler.”
“Will that be enough, Spock?” the captain asked.
Spock put down the tool with which he’d been working and stood up. “Whatever McCoy did to change history,” he reasoned, “he likely did not do so as a result of his absence somewhere. He was, after all, not present in the original timeline. It is therefore logical to conclude that if we can remove him as much as possible from interacting with the people and objects of this period, we will stand a good chance of preventing the damage he caused.”
The captain nodded his head slowly. He appeared fatigued, but also strained. Spock could see the impact of his conflicting emotions. “Here, Captain,” he said, moving around the nightstand upon which the tricorder sat. “Let me move everything off this bed so that you can get some rest.”
Kirk waved off the suggestion. “That’s all right, Spock,” he said. “I don’t think I can sleep right now. I was just going to take a walk, try to clear my head.”
“Forgive me, Captain,” Spock said, “but it is late and you have been up for many hours. I must point out that, in order for us to accomplish our goal, it would be wiser for us to be well rested.”
Kirk shrugged. “I won’t be well rested if I lie down and stare at the ceiling for hours,” he said. “I’m going to take a walk…tire myself out just a little more.” The captain attempted a small smile, but it did not touch his eyes. “I won’t be out long, and I’ll get some sleep when I come back.”
“Very well,” Spock said.
The captain opened the door and headed back out into the night. Spock watched him go, knowing how much turmoil he was experiencing. Spock would have his eased his burden if he could, but the facts were the facts, and there was nothing that he could do.