Spock set the last of the chairs upside down on the end of the table. Behind him, Captain Kirk pushed a broom across the floor, amassing the dirt that had been tracked into the mission since last night, when the two of them had performed the same chore. Spock peered over to the raised platform at the side of the room to where the captain, as had become his practice, had set down the dustpan and wastebasket.
As Spock went to retrieve the cleaning tools with which he had grown well accustomed during the past forty-seven days, he glanced over at the kitchen. There, he saw Rik—he had never learned the former vagabond’s surname—with Edith Keeler, the pair washing the dishes from the night’s final meal. Just then, Keeler turned from the basin and reached toward the serving counter to pick up several empty bowls. Spock saw her notice him peering in her direction, and she gave him a wide smile. He nodded in response, then returned to the task at hand.
Gathering up the dustpan and wastebasket, he walked over to the corner of the room, where the captain had finished sweeping. As they worked together in silence to dispose of the dirt and assorted refuse, Spock speculated about the state of mind of his commanding officer—of his friend. Over the course of the weeks that the two of them had been in Earth’s past, Spock had witnessed Jim fall in love with Edith Keeler, and she with him. Even before the social worker’s criticality to the timeline had become apparent, the romance had seemed futile, since the successful restoration of history would put an end to it. Spock harbored no doubts about what action the captain would take should the opportunity to right the flow of time arise: he would do it, regardless of his feelings for Miss Keeler. What did concern Spock was how the loss of such an obviously special relationship would affect Jim.
Once they’d done tidying up, Spock put away the cleaning implements, while the captain collected their coats. As Spock took his and pulled it on, he saw that Jim also held Keeler’s navy blue cloak. “I’m going to wait for Edith,” he said.
“Of course,” Spock replied. Though he recognized the need to keep a close watch on Keeler due to her importance to the timeline, Spock also understood that Jim wanted to be with her.
“Has McKenna gotten those components you needed yet?” the captain said, asking about the transformer and vacuum tubes Spock had ordered through the watchmaker.
“He has,” Spock said. “He told me that I could stop by his apartment tonight to pick them up, which is what I intended to do.”
“Very good. The more information we have, the better,” said the captain, obviously knowing that Spock would utilize the components to attempt to mine more meaningful data out of his tricorder. A forlorn expression crossed Jim’s features for just a moment, but then he peered toward the kitchen, toward Edith Keeler, and his bearing changed.
“We’ll be done in just a few minutes,” Keeler called.
“Oh, that’s okay, Miss Keeler,” Rik said beside her. “I can finish up here. You can go.”
“Are you certain?” Keeler asked.
“Sure, I don’t mind,” Rik said. “You go on.”
“Thank you,” Keeler said, and Spock saw her reach over and pat Rik on the arm. She picked up a rag and quickly dried her hands, then disappeared briefly as she ducked down below the counter. When she emerged through the swinging doors into the main room, she carried her handbag and pale blue cloche with her. She wore a wide-collared white blouse and a black skirt. After she’d set her hat atop her head, the captain helped her on with her cloak, then put on his own coat.
At the front of the mission, Spock held open one of the double doors for Keeler and the captain, then followed them outside. The temperature had cooled as night had fallen, and water had puddled in the street after an earlier rain. Dim circles of illumination penetrated the darkness, both from street lamps and the headlights of passing automobiles.
“Good night, Mister Spock,” Keeler said, peering back over her shoulder.
“I’ll see you back at the apartment,” the captain said with a quick wave.
“Good night,” Spock said. He raised his own hand in an awkward attempt to match the captain’s gesture. As Jim and Keeler started toward the street, Spock turned to his right and started along the sidewalk. He would head for the building in which Mr. McKenna resided, and then—
Close behind him, a horn beeped twice, and Spock whirled quickly to see an automobile brake, its tires squealing as it lurched to a halt just in front of Jim and Keeler. The couple had stopped just past the curb, but now they hurried across the street in front of the stationary vehicle. The driver sounded his horn a second time in obvious annoyance, and then yet again.
As Spock continued on his way, he wondered if they had all just passed the point at which Edith Keeler had been killed in the original timeline. Had McCoy already arrived in the past and somehow influenced the moment? Had the captain’s presence beside Keeler prevented the traffic accident that should have happened?
Spock considered the circumstances as he stepped into the street. He had to wait to cross until an automobile drove by—the same one that had stopped before Keeler and the captain. If that automobile had initially killed the social worker in the untainted timeline, if the critical event in history that McCoy had somehow changed had just passed, if Spock and Captain Kirk had failed to set right whatever the doctor had done, then he didn’t know what else they could do to remedy the situation. Back in the twenty-third century, beside the Guardian of Forever, the captain had given instructions to the remainder of the landing party: once they thought that they had waited long enough, once it had become apparent to them that history had not reverted, they would have to try themselves to accomplish that which Spock and Captain Kirk had set out to do. But if any of them had made such an attempt, Spock thought, then wouldn’t they have appeared here in the past already? Wouldn’t they—
“Spock!” the captain suddenly yelled. Spock turned quickly and saw him hurrying by himself back across the street, leaving Keeler standing alone on the far corner, watching him go. Spock hastened back to the sidewalk and toward the mission.
“What is it?” he asked as he and the captain reached the front doors at the same time.
“McCoy,” he said, pointing toward the mission. “He’s in—” He stopped speaking as he looked at the front doors, and Spock peered in that direction to see Dr. McCoy coming through the entrance. “Bones!” Jim called, rushing toward him.
“Jim!” the doctor cried, and he embraced the captain. An uncharacteristic swell of emotion coursed through Spock, and he too rushed toward McCoy, reaching for his hand.
“Bones,” Jim said again.
McCoy pumped Spock’s hand. “I am so happy to see you two,” he said. “I didn’t know where I was or how I got here—”
Jim peered back across the street, and now a look of horror suddenly appeared on his face. Spock followed his gaze to see Edith Keeler walking toward them, as though in a trance, seeming to take no note of the truck advancing in her direction.
Now, Spock realized. The moment had arrived.
Jim took three halting steps across the sidewalk, toward Edith.
“No, Jim!” Spock yelled, as McCoy also cried out.
At the curb, Jim stopped. “Edith—” he said in a harsh whisper. Keeler continued walking forward, still unmindful of her surroundings, moving directly into the path of the truck.
McCoy moved then. One step, another, and he reached the captain, brushing past him. But Jim raised his arm, then turned his body into McCoy’s and held him back, prevented him from racing out into the street and pushing Edith Keeler to safety.
The brakes of the truck screeched along the wet roadway. At the last instant, Keeler came our of her daze, seeing the truck, screaming as it struck her. She was thrown to the ground hard, her head striking the tarmac with a violent, decisive sound. Keeler’s body wilted at once, her life extinguished just that quickly.
Bystanders dashed to the fallen woman. Spock looked from the corpse of Edith Keeler over to where Jim still held McCoy. Jim’s eyes were tightly closed, and for a moment, the life seemed to have gone out of him as well.
“You deliberately stopped me, Jim,” McCoy said, his words delivered with quiet anger. Jim opened his eyes. Spock had never seen them filled with such agony. “I could have saved her,” the doctor went on. “Do you know what you just did?”
Jim pushed away from McCoy and staggered over to the mission doorway. He leaned an arm against the jamb, his aspect distant. He had taken the proper action, done what he had to do, but at what cost to himself?
“He knows, Doctor,” Spock told McCoy. “He knows.”
Jim leaned his face against his fist, quaking with emotion. Spock had never seen him like this, and in that moment he didn’t know if his friend would ever be the same again.