The Way to Dusty Death

[Mr. Atoz]

THE WAY TO DUSTY DEATH >>>>

["All Our Yesterdays" is one of my Top Ten favorite episodes ("gee, no kidding, Mr. Atoz?"), but there are a few holes in the story. Why do their phasers stop working, but not McCoy's medical tricorder? Why does Spock stop being logical just because he has gone back in time to before the Vulcans discovered logic? Why doesn't Mr. Atoz simply stand in the archway and call them back? This story is my attempt to answer these questions, by telling the story from Mr. Atoz's point of view.]

***

"And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death..." MacBeth, Act V, Scene V

***

"Hurry up there!" growled the soldier, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the transparent dome of the Library roof. Without even looking at what he was doing, he shoved the nearest man in line, causing him to stumble. Angrily the soldier prodded the fallen man with his bangstick, making the entire line hurriedly scramble forward.

Atoz frowned but didn't even turn his eyes from the control panel. Protesting would only make the soldiers even more irritable. The exodus had been reasonably calm and orderly, since everyone was resigned to the fact that there was nothing else to be done. But as the days had worn on into weeks, and the Time had gotten closer, and the citizens with the lowest priority of all had streamed past, the soldiers left behind to keep order had gotten more and more stressed. And who could blame them?

One of the very last people, confronted with the enormity of what she was about to do, stopped short of the Archway, staring into the purple energy shroud generated by the Atavachron. The frightened whine that escaped her lips got everyone's attention, and even made Atoz look up. She was a slum-dweller, uneducated, clad in rags, and only about fourteen years old, the same age as...

"Oh, for Xem's Sake, MOVE!" the soldier cursed, moving forward with his bangstick. Without quite knowing why, Atoz stepped in front to block his way, as an older woman took the girl in her arms. Atoz made the mistake of looking into the woman's eyes. It was what he had been studiously avoiding for the past six months -- six months of preparing people and then watching them march away into the past.

"So help me, Librarian," spat the soldier, "if you don't get out of my way, you'll be responsible..."

"I AM responsible," said Atoz with dignity, as the woman and the girl stepped through the Archway and disappeared. And he thought of the horrible emptiness he had seen in the woman's eyes. "I'm already responsible."

***

Although the gravitational instability in the sun had been detected a year ago, it was impossible to predict exactly when the nova would occur. The best their scientists could do was estimate to within a day, and that deadline was rapidly approaching. Seen through the transparent Library dome, Beta Niobe looked the same slightly orange ball of fire as it always did. No one merely looking up would guess that the planet Sarpeidon was only hours away from destruction.

Unfortunately, the Supreme Rulers (for reasons known only to themselves) had long ago outlawed any research into space travel, so there was no way to evacuate the planet. One scientist had suggested trying to contact other intelligent life in the universe, but the idea had simply been laughed at. Everyone knew that such ideas were mere fiction.

It was Supreme Ruler Ral Khan, in desperation, who had dictated using the Atavachron. The limited time-travel device had been invented for historical research. Despite Atoz's objections, he had been placed in charge of the project and given responsibility for re-settling the entire population in the past. Normally it was only possible to remain in the past for a few hours at a time, but the physicists had found a way around that limitation. The very design of the Atavachron would prevent people from interfering with history, but at least they would be alive, somewhere, somewhen.

Looking up at the sun through the dome, Atoz remembered that woman's eyes and scoffed. Alive? Yes, alive but frozen like an insect in amber. Trapped in a history which was pre-ordained and could not be changed. Children would have to grow up in the hopelessly parochial cultures of centuries past, with no hope of ever altering them. Adults would have to live knowing that a better society was forever and always in the future. Could people actually live with that knowledge?

"Uncle Atoz!" The Librarian turned away from the dome to see the only thing that could usually make him smile, but not today.

"Lia child, you should already have gone!" he said crossly, as the fourteen year old girl ran up and gave him a hug. He scowled over her shoulder at the two simple android replicas of himself who served as his assistants. "I specifically TOLD you two..."

"Don't blame Bee and Cee, uncle," said Lia. "I want us to go together."

"But your mother will have my hide..." The girl laughed happily at his exaggeration. She was dressed in the type of long dress they wore 400 years ago, during the settlement of the Nyn region. For some romantic reason, it was her mother's favorite period in history, but a period in which women were treated almost like property. Atoz shuddered to think of Lia growing up in that society.

"You can't stay, child," he said, as the sound of tramping boots came up behind them.

"What's the meaning of this, Librarian?" the soldier demanded. "I thought you said that last group was the LAST!"

"It was," replied Atoz. "All other cities have reported completion. Everyone is accounted for."

"Good," the soldier grunted, grabbing Lia by the arm and pulling her away. "Come on along, little girl. I haven't got time for this!"

"But..." Lia began.

"Go with them, child," said Atoz, giving her a final hug. "I still have things to do here. Tell you mother and your aunt Syssan I'll be along very soon."

That was a mistake, thinking of Syssan at a time like this. His hands trembled as he placed the disk in the Atavachron and set the controls. Lia couldn't see them, but his eyes were moist as he watched her step through the Time Portal. His replicas, Bee and Cee, waved cheerfully and called good-byes as she vanished. "Oh shut up!" Atoz snarled. "Don't you two have work to do?"

8

[Mr. Atoz]

With their task completed, the soldiers had quickly gone through the Atavachron to join their master 500 years in the past, no longer caring what became of the Librarian or the Library. Ral Khan of course had been one of the first to make his escape, and had naturally picked a time and place giving him the best chance of carving out a comfortable little empire for himself. Of course History could not be changed. The very nature of the Atavachron prevented it.

Atoz was alone in the Library. Alone on the entire planet. He was the very last.

He had actually lied to Lia. There were nothing else to be done. He just couldn't bear to leave his Library until the last possible moment. He strolled through the main section for hours, looking at the shelves and shelves of book disks which no one would ever use again. Once he had thought about carrying as many books as he could when he left, because he couldn't bear to think of them all being destroyed, but what would be the point? Without readers, they would be nothing more than useless bits of metal. Atoz had been a librarian for nearly fifty years. One of his favorite sayings had always been, "A Library serves no purpose unless someone is using it." Now he was abruptly brought face to face with the other side of that thought -- what purpose does a Librarian serve, without a Library?

Sitting down at the reference desk, he picked up the disk which coded for the place and time where his family had gone. He felt the smooth metal, thinking of Syssan. Suddenly he felt very, very old. His shoulders slumped, the disk fell through his fingers to the desktop. They had never had children together, and now they were probably too old. Maybe it would be better if he didn't join her there, after all. What use would he be in a primitive society? He knew that he would never be able to adjust to such an uncivilized era. In all the romantic books, Captains were supposed to go down with their ships. Maybe it would be best if he just stayed here...with his Library...until the end.

Footsteps behind him? Impossible! Everyone was gone!

"You're a very agile man, Mr. Atoz," said a cheerful voice. "Just how many of you are there?"

Atoz looked up sharply, startled as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. Three men were standing there, dressed in unfamiliar uniforms. One was in gold, the other two in blue. They must have already met up with one or more of his library androids, yet the man who had spoken seemed surprised to see Atoz, as if he were not accustomed to replicas. Then they must be some of the Ral Khan's troops from the provinces, remaining behind to loot most likely, the fools.

"You're very late," snapped Atoz, recovering from his surprise. "Where have you been?"

"We came as soon as we knew what was happening," said the man in the gold uniform, who seemed to think he was in charge.

"It's my fault, sir," said one of the others, who had curious ears. Some of the natives of Kandihyr province had long ears, but not nearly as pointed as these. "I must have miscalcuted. Our readings indicated no one here at all."

Readings? What sort of nonsense was the idiot babbling about? Atoz shook his head; he didn't have time for this. "In a very few hours, you would have been absolutely correct," he said. "You arrived just in time."

"Then you know what's going to happen?" said the other one in the blue uniform.

"Of course I know," said Atoz impatiently. "Everyone else followed instructions and are now safe. And you had better do the same."

"Did you say they were safe?" asked the man in the gold shirt again.

"Yes, yes, yes. They are all gone, except you three."

"Where did they go?"

"Wherever they wanted to go, of course. It was strictly up to the individual's choice." Ral Khan had issued edicts, reserving the more desirable time periods for himself and his supporters, but the statement was true in general nevertheless. During those last two hectic weeks, even the commands of a Supreme Ruler (who was no longer around to enforce them, after all) were more often honored in the breach than in the observance.

The man in gold said, "Will you let us take you to a place of safety?"

"No thank you," said Atoz, almost defensively. "I plan to join my wife and family when the time comes. Do not be concerned about me. Think of yourselves."

Standing, he led the three men over to the history shelves. "The Library is at your complete disposal," he said, showing them how to use the disk readers. "The history of the planet is available in every detail. You have only to choose the period which interests you the most. The century, the date, the moment." They were still standing there as if they had no idea what he was talking about. Atoz patiently demonstrated how to place a book disk into the reader, in the process discovering a disk which had been misfiled. There had been a great deal of confusion in that past few days.

The man in the gold uniform shrugged as if he still couldn't grasp how serious the situation was. Feeling sorry for him, Atoz took him by the arm and led him over to a study desk. "Here, sir, I have something which might interest you." Since he definitely possessed the bearing of a man used to giving orders and leading, Atoz assumed he would be comfortable in one of the militaristic eras, some 600 years ago. He placed a disk in the viewer. "If these won't do, I'll bring you another file," he said, and walked away.

[Mr. Atoz]

In a way, Atoz was grateful for the intrusion, since it gave him something to do, preventing him from giving in to his morbid thoughts. Going to the Atavachron's control panel, he began setting it up to prepare these last three men. Then he isolated the two readers which the men were using and focused the Archway on them, so that no time would be lost in sending them on their way when the time came. After a moment, he was aware that the one with the pointed ears was watching him. "Have you made your selection, sir?" he asked politely.

"Just what is it I am expected to select?" the man said.

"I'm sure I was clear," said the Librarian patiently. "The period in which you are interested."

The man managed to nod without conveying the idea that he understood at all. He seemed more fascinated by the machine. "This device looks most interesting."

"This is the Atavachron," said Atoz. From the nearby Archway, he could hear vague sounds -- the rattling of coaches and the calls of street vendors -- a sure sign that a Time Portal had been focused properly on one of the readers. Then the man in blue was distracting him again. "I must ask you not to touch the controls. When you have made your choice, I will process you through..."

A woman's scream had come through the Archway. Atoz payed no attention of course, but the man in the gold uniform had risen from his seat in alarm. "Spock! Bones!" he commanded, and then, before anyone could stop him, he ran towards the Archway!

"Stop!" yelled Atoz. "I haven't prepared you!"

It was too late. The purple energy field expanded, swallowed the man, and he was gone. The Time Portal automatically sealed itself as a safety precaution, the Archway shifting focus to the next reader in sequence...

"Wait! You must be prepared!" The other two men also ran through the Archway and vanished into History.

***

The fools! Atoz was as certain as anything that every single person on the planet had been warned of the danger of stepping through a Time Portal unprepared. The paradox of a living body inhabitting a different time frame wreaked havoc with the body's delicate mechanisms. The synapses of the brain began to break down within two hours, leading quickly to abnormal behavior, then insanity, and eventually death by massive hemorrhage. The process was speeded up if the person tried to alter the normal flow of history, which was why small children were actually psycho-conditioned not to even think about changing things.

Of course a way had been found to temporarily strengthen the brain's synapses, but only at the cost of making a return trip impossible. Anyone who had been prepared in this way and who tried to cross the Portal a second time would find his brain seizing up like an engine without lubricating oil. He would die instantly.

The Librarian relaxed a bit. Still -- they couldn't have gone far. If the Time Portal was still in focus, all he had to do was call them back, and if they still had the slightest bit of common sense...

A shrill alarm broke into his thoughts. Smoke was coming from the Atavachron's control panel, as a dozen warning lights blinked for his attention. Atoz ran to the panel as fast as he could, and brought up a diagnostic display. He saw the problem at once. The idiots had tried to carry energy weapons with them! The Time Portals could handle innocuous items such as microcomputers or small medical scanners, but the power cells of their weapons had created an imbalance as the Atavachron tried to absorb their energy, leading to an overload of the superconductive capacitors. The resulting surge had not only drained the weapons (probably fusing their working components at the same time), but it had also blown out the Atavachron's temporal processor. A glance at the panel showed him that the last two time foci were still connected together, possibly allowing sounds to pass back and forth between them, but even that effect would soon fade away. The Atavachron was dead.

***

Calm, thought the Librarian, taking a deep breath. He still had time. Carefully he inspected the damage. Fortunately only the processor was damaged; the capacitors themselves were still intact. It should be possible to repair. Atoz hesitated just for a moment. Disconnecting the damaged processor would of course completely defocus the Archway, and then there would be no way for those three men to return. But then, he could not actually re-establish a Time Portal with the processor damaged this way in any case. Those three fools were surely lost. He shrugged and set to work.

It took the Librarian an hour to replace the processor, and another half an hour to see that it was properly re-aligned. For a moment, he wondered about those three strangely-uniformed men. What had they been thinking? Had they perhaps realized their danger, and were they even now searching frantically for the Time Portals in a desperate attempt to return? If they were, they were certainly out of luck.

Atoz sat down at the desk to test the reader, only to find a disk already in place. He had forgotten -- the man in the gold uniform had been viewing this disk. Was it possible...? The Librarian got up and walked over to the Archway. Faint sounds drifted to him -- clanging bells, hoofbeats on cobblestones, indistinct voices. The Portal was active then. He hesitated a moment. "Sir?" he called. "Are you there, sir? This is Mr. Atoz, in the Library. If you can hear me, you must come back at once." He listened, but there was no indication that anyone had heard.

Shrugging, Atoz strode back to the reader, reaching to remove the disk and break the connection. For some reason he paused, his hand wavering over the disk.

Why not give him a few more moments, the Librarian decided. Then he frowned and went to his office to pick up a few personal belongings.

[Mr. Atoz]

Fifteen minutes later, he returned to the find the man in the gold uniform, struggling with one of his android replicas. As he took in the martial efficiency with which the man dispatched the replica, Atoz was glad he had brought along a stun gun. "You are evidently a suicidal maniac," said Atoz, leveling the stun gun as the man straightened up. "I don't understand what you think you're up to, but if you continue, we will both die!"

"If you help me, we won't die, I promise you that."

"I don't trust you."

The man spread his hands. "You don't really want to hurt me, I can see that," he said, as he slowly inched forward. Atoz fired, and the man went down.

Now that he had a chance to look him over, the style of the man's gold uniform was completely unlike anything Atoz had ever seen before. He would have liked to ask the stranger more about where he came from, but time was running short. Pushing a maintenance cart over, he shifted the man's stunned body onto it with a great deal of difficulty. He pushed the cart over to the Atavachron and made the few adjustments that were necessary to prepare his synapses.

By the time he had finished, the stranger was already beginning to shake off the effect of his stun gun. "Now, just relax, sir," said Atoz, as he shoved the cart towards the Archway. "Everything's going to be all right..."

But the man was too quick. He rolled himself off the cart. As he was staggering to his feet, Atoz ran forward to attempt to finish what he had started, but the stranger was recovering quickly. He fought back, and before the Librarian knew what was happening, he was locked in a rather painful half-nelson.

The stranger pulled a small device from his belt with his free hand and flicked it open. "Kirk to Enterprise, how much time?"

Atoz listened in amazement as a small voice came from what was obviously a radio of some kind. "Seventeen minutes, Captain. The three of you have to beam up now!"

"I'm afraid we can't, Mr. Scott. Mister Spock and Dr. McCoy are missing."

"I knew something was wrong! I have a landing party standing by..."

"NO!" said the man in the gold uniform. "No one else is to beam down without my orders. Stand by." He closed the device and put it away. "Now, Mr. Atoz, you're going to help me find my friends."

"All right," the Librarian grunted. "We'll have to find the disk they were using."

The man named Kirk released him quite tentatively, and they urgently searched the alcoves. Unfortunately, when the focus on that particular time period had been lost, the library androids had assumed the reader was no longer in use and had already refiled the disk they had been using. Atoz opened a few files which happened to be closest. "Who were you talking to just now?" he asked, as together they looked through the files at random. "Don't tell me there are others...?"

"That was my starship, in orbit. The Enterprise."

"Starship? You mean, from another planet?" This was impossible! There were stories about such things --about the government being in touch with aliens but keeping it covered up -- but they were only stories! A horrible suspicion began to steal over the Librarian.

"That's right. My name is Kirk."

"Your people...have they been here before?" Atoz asked hesitantly.

"The USS Horizon originally surveyed Sarpeidon about fifty years ago. According to the captain's report, your planetary leaders declined contact at that time."

The Librarian froze. Suddenly everything was explained! "Fifty years ago! That would have been during the time of Dahr Khan, the son of the Tyrant."

"The Tyrant?"

"Our more recent Supreme Rulers consider themselves 'enlightened' despots," explained Atoz, "but Zor Khan established the dynasty. About a century ago, he was an obscure public servant. He got himself elected Chancellor, and went on to create one of the most repressive governments in our long history. It was he who dismantled our space program and outlawed any attempt at further research, even to the point of sending some scientists into exile in the Ice Age."

"Outlawed research into space travel?" said Kirk. "But why?"

Atoz grimaced. "Better to be a large fish in a small pond, than a small fish in a large pond. It is the way the dictatorial mind works, unfortunately."

"Even though it meant dooming your entire planet to death," said Kirk. "I'm sorry, Mr. Atoz. I wish there was something I could do."

"Your people could have helped us overthrow Dahr Khan fifty years ago," said the Librarian bitterly, "and none of this would have been necessary."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Kirk said. "We have a law, the Prime Directive, which forbids us from intefering with a culture's natural evolution. It's not up to us to decide how your planet is governed."

"Oh, really?" Atoz scoffed. "Then who IS it up to?"

Kirk put down the disk he was scanning and turned to him. "It's up to the people of Sarpeidon. I only know one member of that race, and he's standing right here in front of me."

"Me? I'm only a Librarian. What can I do?"

"You are here, the only remaining representative of your entire planet. Everyone else is gone, withdrawn into the history books. There isn't anyone else. It seems to me...it's entirely up to you."

The room was silent but for the humming of the turbines that drove the Atavachron. Atoz cleared his throat. "That man you spoke to earlier -- Mr. Zgot, was it? How accurate do you think his estimate was?"

"Seventeen minutes?" said Kirk. "I'd say it was probably pretty accurate."

"Then we had better hurry, if we want to find your friends."

***

They had grabbed an entire file and taken it to the desk reader. When they didn't pan out, Atoz went back for another file. After some thought, on his way back he stopped at the reference desk for a certain disk which was kept under lock and key. Another check with the mysterious Mr. Zgot revealed that there were less than five minutes left. Kirk got ever more frantic as the time passed, pacing restlessly back and forth between the desk and the Archway as he helped look through disk after disk. "What were you telling me earlier, about synaptic break down?"

"The more intelligent the person, and the more complex his mental patterns, the more rapid the progression," the Librarian explained. "We once tried to use people who rated high on the Empathy Scale as historical observers, but they turned out to be even more susceptible. None managed to survive more than three hours in the past."

Kirk groaned, unable to stand still as his temper reached a critical point. He brought his fist down on the desk, scattering the disks. "I spoke to them earlier. They were someplace cold. And I could hear the wind."

Atoz was also picking up some of the captain's frustration as their time began to run out. "You have to be specific," he snapped. "Do you know how many disks there are of cold places?"

"I didn't see it!" Kirk wailed. It was obvious to Atoz that he cared about these two lost men deeply. It was much more than an officer simply feeling responsibility for his men. He was risking his own life for theirs, and was doing so freely and without the slightest hesitation.

"Perhaps if you called out."

Kirk strode to the Archway. "Spock! Bones!" There was no answer.

"It's the wrong disk!" he hissed. They tried three or four others before a faint answering cry came back on the howling wind. "Captain?"

Sheer relief brightened Kirk's face. "Bones! Spock! Follow the sound of my voice!" There was a maddening delay as the two men groped about, guided only by sound, searching for their end of the Portal. Kirk opened his communicator again to contact his starship. "Time?" he asked tersely.

The man on the other end had obviously been waiting. "It's now or never, Captain!" he said.

"WAIT!" ordered Kirk.

Atoz closed his eyes, feeling the seconds tick by. He had never been so acutely aware of the passage of time in his life. Behind him, the energy mantle of the Atavachron groaned as the two men emerged safely into the Library again. Atoz looked down at the two disks in his hands. One led to his family, 400 years in a past that was nothing but dusty death. The other had been taken from the Contemporary History file. It led to no more than 100 years past, but a faint hope of a future. The Librarian clenched his jaw, thrust the disk in place before he could change his mind. Lurching to his feet, he quickly grasped Kirk's arm in a brief clasp of thanks, brushed past the other two, and ran full tilt into the Time Portal.

[Mr. Atoz]

Atoz never found out what happened to those three men in strange uniforms. The next thing he knew, he was lying face down on a strange street, as an old-fashioned automobile drove past, narrowly missing him. "That was quite a fall you took, old man," said a disinterested voice.

The Librarian looked up to see a brash young man several yards away in an inexpensive but servicable suit. He was lounging next to the traffic light on the corner, holding a stack of flyers which he was handing out to passersby. He looked at Atoz with the callous expression of someone who had hoped to witness an accident, but had been disappointed.

"Yes, I must have turned my ankle stepping onto the curb," said Atoz, standing up and brushing himself off. He looked around curiously. Judging by the style of the clothing and the architecture, he had arrived 100 years in the past.

"You need to be more careful," said the young man, unsympathetically. "I'm running for office, by the way," he went on, once he was certain that Atoz was capable of paying attention. "I'm sure you've noticed that there are things in our society that need to be improved, and I'm just the man to see those improvements through. I'm having a rally tonight in Gajan Square. I hope to see you there."

Atoz felt a little bit dazed as the young man shook his hand vigorously and then thrust a flyer into the same hand. "Well, yes, young man. New ideas are always welcome..."

"Very good, very good," the young man gushed. "That's just the thing I like to hear. I'm sure you'll be pleased when you hear what I have to say. Bring your friends!"

The Librarian took another step, then turned. He was about to ask the young man's name when his eyes focused on the flyer he had been given. "Vote for ZOR" it said.

Atoz felt his blood run cold. "Oh, yes, young man," he said under his breath. "I will certainly be there." Then he looked up at the sun, riding peacefully across the sky.

>>> THE END >>>