“Guardian,” he said, “I want to see the past of my father.”

“Behold,” the Guardian said. “A gateway to the past, if you wish.” Again, mist drifted down through the time vortex. Within the white vapor, images appeared.

And then Jim Kirk watched his father being born.

The day had passed too quickly. In some sense, Kirk had spent it with the people who had meant the most to him in his life, seeing them from birth to death in a way that should have been impossible. He had watched scenes that had made him laugh aloud, a lonely sound quickly lost within the expanse of the crater. He had cried too, both from joy and from sadness at the images passing before him. Mostly, though, he had simply looked on quietly, stilly.

After seeing his father’s past, he had asked to see his mother’s. Then he’d watched the life of his older brother, Sam, and then that of Sam’s wife, Aurelan. He’d watched his grandfather’s life, his uncle’s, his nephews’, his son’s. He’d watched Spock and Bones and Gary Mitchell, Miramanee and Antonia. Throughout each of them, he’d often seen himself moving through these lives not his own, affecting them. For those who’d survived him, he viewed scenes unknown to him: Spock holding an infant, Bones getting married, Antonia finding love again. It had been both easy and difficult, but in the end, something he’d been pleased that he’d done.

“Guardian,” he said at last, almost ready to have the life of Jean-Luc Picard replayed so that he could step into it. But before he did that, he thought to ask to see the past of one other person. He didn’t know whether or not he’d be able to watch, but he wanted to try. “Guardian,” he said again. “I wish to see the life of Edith Keeler, whose life once intersected my own, through you.”

“Behold,” the Guardian said.

TERMINUS

Crucible

As Jim Kirk swept the floor of the 21st Street Mission, he stole glances across the room and into the kitchen. Along with one of the former vagrants who often worked at the mission, Edith washed the dishes from the night’s last meal. Even now, after another long and tiring day laboring to help the downtrodden, she looked beautiful. Kirk had never met anybody with her spirit. A woman of vision and compassion, she saw a future she could not possibly know and that should have been impossible for her even to imagine, a future in which all of humanity would work together for the common good. Far removed from those distant hopes, though, Edith did what she could in her own present to move society in that direction, helping the less fortunate because she felt a responsibility to the civilization of which she was a part. Kirk could not have loved her more.

Ahead of him, Spock lifted the last of the chairs from the floor and placed them upside down on the end of the table. He then walked over to the raised platform at the side of the room, to where Kirk had left the dustpan and wastebasket. As the Vulcan did so-the points of his ears as always covered by the black knit cap he wore-Kirk saw him look over at Edith.

Kirk knew that his friend did not approve of his relationship with the social worker. They had traveled to Earth in 1930 to find McCoy, the victim of an accidental cordrazine overdose and an equally accidental trip back through time. The doctor had changed history in a way that had allowed Nazi Germany and its fascist allies to win World War II, completely altering the future. Kirk and Spock had come back after McCoy, to a time before he’d arrived in the past, and though they had yet to find him, they had learned just how he had impacted the timeline: he had prevented Edith from dying in a traffic accident. Now they had to stop him from doing so.

That knowledge wounded Kirk deeply. He had fallen in love with Edith weeks ago-almost as soon as he’d met her-but he knew what he must do. He could not follow his heart, for then, as Spock had told him, millions would die who had not died before.

I should just stay away from Edith, Kirk told himself as Spock walked over to him with the cleaning implements. He’d had the same thought over and over again, even before he’d found out that Edith would soon die-that she had to die. For no matter what McCoy had done to alter the past, once Kirk and Spock had prevented him from doing so, they would presumably return to their own time in the twenty-third century. Whether Edith survived or not, Kirk would be forced to leave her. Falling in love and continuing to spend time with her therefore made little sense. But then, love often carried its own meaning, its own reason for being. Better to have loved and lost, Kirk thought, quoting Tennyson.

He reached the corner of the mission’s main room and finished sweeping. When Spock came over with the dustpan and wastebasket, they worked together silently to gather up and discard the dirt and refuse Kirk had collected. They finished in short order and Spock went to put away all of the cleaning tools. As he did so, Kirk gathered up their coats, as well as Edith’s cloak. When Spock returned and reached for his, Kirk said, “I’m going to wait for Edith.” Because of her importance to the timeline, Kirk and Spock had agreed that at least one of them should keep her under surveillance at all times. Apart from all of that, though, Kirk recognized the simple truth that he wanted to be with Edith.

“Of course,” Spock said. It seemed obvious to Kirk that Spock also saw his desire to spend time with her.

“Has McKenna gotten those components you needed yet?” Kirk asked, seeking to change the subject, but also curious about Spock’s efforts to restore the mnemonic memory circuit he had created, a computer aid that had helped him determine McCoy’s role in modifying the past. A watchmaker, Mr. McKenna had at one time also done radio repair work, and in addition to allowing Spock to use some of his fine tools, he’d been able to help him secure various pieces of equipment. Recently, after a particularly demanding search via the mnemonic memory circuit had overloaded it, Spock had ordered vacuum tubes and a transformer from 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,” Kirk said. “The more information we have, the better.” Though Kirk believed that, he also didn’t know whether it would help him to know precisely when Edith would die. Bad enough that he knew she would not live much longer, but to be able to count down the time he had left with her might be too much for him to bear.

Thinking of Edith, Kirk looked over to where she continued working in the kitchen. She saw him and smiled, then said, “We’ll be done in just a few minutes.”

“Oh, that’s okay, Miss Keeler,” said the man washing dishes with her. “I can finish up here. You can go.”

“Are you certain?” Edith asked.

“Sure, I don’t mind,” the man said. “You go on.”

“Thank you,” Edith said. As she patted the man on the arm in an obvious gesture of appreciation, Kirk felt a smile bloom on his face, grateful for any extra time he could have with her. He watched her dry her hands on a rag, then bend down behind the counter. A moment later, she came through the kitchen’s swinging doors holding her pale blue hat and her handbag. She wore a simple outfit of a black skirt and a white blouse, modestly covering the lovely body that Kirk had come to know so well.

Edith put on her hat, and then Kirk held open her cloak, helping her on with the navy blue garment. After he and Spock had donned their own coats, they headed for the double doors at the front of the mission. There, Spock held open one of the doors, and Kirk followed Edith out into the cool night. The lights of street lamps and automobiles reflected from the damp surfaces of the sidewalks and roads, wet from an earlier rain shower.

“Good night, Mister Spock,” Edith said, glancing behind her as Spock exited the mission.