It would break the deadlock. Get Omne out of his secure position with his hostage and his back against the wall, commanding the doors.
Of course. Scott might be outside, monitoring, only waiting for a chance. And if not—she was not out of it, and Kirk would not count himself out, or James, even the Vulcan with his broken ribs.
She set herself to move.
But the giant was master of himself. He smiled the wolf smile. “I am not to be drawn, Captain. I chose you for that very capacity. It is what made you a fit subject for the first test. But you have lived without immortality when it did not exist. Now it does exist, and you have tasted it.”
There was a long moment of silence. She could feel the weight of it in the link. Each of them had lived for a long time on the final frontier of death, and still dared to love. It had been necessary. It was the nature of the universe, and what man, what all intelligent life had had to live with, always. And it had always been unendurable, and endured.
But now it was not the nature of the universe.
She undertook to speak for all. “We would give anything for it—except what we are.”
“So say you all? ” Omne said, and his eyes were darkly impressed as he felt the weight of common assent like a solid unity among them. Even McCoy lifted his head and met the black eyes with a searing look of loathing and icy, bleak pride—he who fought death on his own ground and too often lost, and would fight again.
Omne nodded “So you will not, after all, quite sell soul, flag, fortune, and sacred honor?”
“We will not sell what makes love possible,” the Commander said.
“But that is the price of the Phoenix,” Omne said. He laughed then, darkly. “And you will pay. Today your lambs speak together. Your wolves will come to me one by one, in silence, as will the wolves of the galaxy. You will come when the strain of living with death and love and the knowledge of eternal life becomes too much. Commander, you have touching plans for taking James into the Romulan Empire. What will you do on the day when your gorgeous, delicate princeling fails to bow his stiff neck and is discovered? Or perhaps even is betrayed—it could be arranged, you know—and is thrown into the dungeons of the Empire?”
Yes, what? She asked herself, fighting down the feeling of sickness. But aloud she focused only on the detail. “We have spoken of a princeling only here. Are we to assume that you have been following that conversation, too?”
“But of course,” Omne said smoothly. “That also is on tape. I must say, it has been my one disappointment in you. You had ample opportunity to know that I could tap into your intercom system. You have been rather leisurely. You might have done me the honor of moving out at warp eight But I suppose that you can be forgiven a certain lingering shock.
She grimaced. In fact the delay had worried her. But she had seen no means of avoiding it. The problems had to be worked through—political, medical-even the problems of metaphysics, even the emotions; the Vulcan had known it as well as any of them, perhaps better. “We were entitled,” she said. “However, we had our reasons. And we have said nothing which you could not infer from the plain fact of James in the Empire.”
Omne nodded. “Except perhaps for the delightful picture of the princeling. You have been practically shellmouths on the subject of how you propose to cope with me. It is a problem, you know. I cannot, of course, permit the alliance of Federation and Empire.”
“You cannot prevent it,” she said. “You yourself have forged the bond.”
Omne nodded. “That I must undo, before the welding becomes too solid. It was a risk I took. It was necessary to test the process against the best the galaxy had to offer.” He bowed fractionally to them. I had not fully reckoned with how good the best could be.”
They all stood carved in stone.
She understood it only as she did it, standing without even a nod in return. And she saw the understanding and the hate flare in Omne’s eyes. He could accept their acknowledgement. They could not grant the value of his.
He locked down to savage control and nodded slowly. “I will not say that it was necessary to test your best with my worst. But because I did, you may not have taken my galactic purpose seriously enough. You, Commander, could still believe that I would fight you to take over the galaxy. I am far more dangerous than that. I have no ambition to be a petty dictator—even of a galaxy. You will learn to your cost that I genuinely am an advocate of freedom—no matter how hell-busted or weather-beaten the fragile ideal may be, or the outlaw who defends it.”
He looked at them gravely, and for a moment they all must have seen the enduring purpose in the black eyes: the lie he had wanted them to speak which was the truth a certain man had learned when love died. For a moment she thought that she saw that man’s face in the face of Omne: a younger face, alien—and, somehow, without sin. Was that what Omne had been?
He put the face away, as he must have put it away long ago.
But the grave look remained for a moment. “The last thing I can permit is your alliance, if I must kill you to prevent it. Nor was it any part of my plan to give a Kirk to each side. Nor will I.
He tightened his hold on James. She stiffened.
“You nave no Kirk to give,” James said through his teeth.
Omne laughed. “But I have. You are created life: property, mine—and—the property of the victor.”
“You lost,” James grated out.
Omne chuckled. “Come, princeling, it was you who told me that force is not an answer to argument. Do you now wish to contend that it is? But I have won on that count, too. I died for the privilege. However, we can have many such arguments—for the next thousand years. I really cannot loose you on the galaxy; one Kirk is already an embarrassment of riches. He will yet weld empires together wall to wall across the galaxy, leaving not even a hole in the wall for freedom—or a wolf loose in the galaxy. Except, of course, me. But I will be wolf enough.”
“Omne,” Kirk cut in, “are you not wolf enough—or man enough—to face two of us?”
Omne smiled. “Why, yes, Captain. You may come, too, if you wish. I am still giving some thought to taking the original—or both of you. In time you would not only be mastered, but would see my idea of freedom. I could use a Kirk or two who did.”
Kirk shook his head. “Not in a thousand years.”
“We would have forever,” Omne said gravely, and then smiled. “However, just at the moment your disappearance might raise inconvenient questions about the process. The disappearance of James will not, since he does not exist.
“The disappearance of James would raise more than a question,” the Commander said flatly.
Omne grinned. “I cannot tell you how you terrify me, my dear.” He shrugged. “To whom would you appeal for help? Your Empire? The Federation? To what Geneva convention? Who is being held prisoner, you say? Captain Kirk? But he is on the Enterprise. A Captain Kirk who has elegant ears and looks rather like a Romulan princeling? But, my dear Commander, are you certain you have not been overworking?”
“I would not require help to take you apart,” she said, but in fact she knew that he was right. Once he was back behind his shields—She tried to picture arguing with Omne’s trustees, with the conference of delegates, for permission to search the planet. No. He was not leaving with James—certainly not without her.
There had to be a moment when she could at least throw herself into the transporter effect with them.
It was a conclusion her whole body had reached long ago, she realized, finding herself poised for it.
‘No’, James said silently through the link, but she did not argue.
“She has help,” Kirk said quietly, stepping forward to face Omne. “The alliance has begun. Nothing will break it, or us. As for James, what I said about the right of one innocent life goes for us, too. We have the right to defend ourselves and each other. You may think that under no circumstance can we do anything to risk revealing the process. Wrong. We can if we must. It would
be a grave step, but we are prepared to face the consequences. Under no circumstance are we prepared to surrender any one of us to death or captivity or your games—not one of us, not anyone else dear to us, not anyone under our commands, and, so far as we are able, not anyone at all.”
Omne lifted a black eyebrow dangerously. “Captain, you require another lesson in mastery.”
Kirk shook his head. “You require the lesson.” He straightened further and stood very quiet, but there was an electric quality in the quietness, a sense of crackling power perhaps even to match Omne’s. She looked at him in astonishment. Had she missed something? This was not the look or tone of defeat, but nothing had happened. Had his mind snapped? Did he have some sick need to reassert himself against Omne? But it was not the tone of madness.
“Omne,” he said, “yours is not an innocent life. For what you have done—to name only kidnapping—death is the ancient penalty. For what you have done which cannot be named by ancient or modern law, death is not too great a penalty—even for an immortal. For what you will do, death is not even penalty enough. We have no forgiveness. The—wolves—here would like to tear out your throat. I would. But we have made some effort to claw our way out of swamp and jungle. We cannot offer you trial—or treatment, if we supposed you to be insane. It is not our way to execute in the manner of murder. But you have placed yourself outside our law, and outside the pale. One thing, however, we recognize: your achievement, and the mind which was capable of it. There is one way in which you can still be honored for that, and in which the achievement can take its proper place in the galaxy. We offer no forgiveness or pardon, but I offer amnesty on one sole condition: that you surrender the process and agree never to use it privately, on pain of death, while we in this room, including you, become a commission to oversee its careful, proper introduction to the galaxy. I offer amnesty, honor, life—as against death with finality. Choose now.”
Omne heard him out with the incredulous look of an astonishment too profound even for anger.
The giant laughed, roared. “You offer me amnesty? You act as if you had the power to offer me anything? To threaten me?”
Kirk stood unmoved. “I ask you to believe that I do. I offer you one chance, Omne. Choose.”
“Captain,” Omne said with exaggerated patience. I just mopped up the floor with all of you. I assure you that I shielded my beam so that Mr. Scott will not have detected it. I am aware that you are stalling, but I would appreciate it if you would do it in a more plausible manner. You really cannot draw to a pair and then bluff like a pat hand. Bad poker, Captain.
“You hold the dead man’s hand, Omne, against—four of a kind.” Kirk shifted fractionally. “Did you really suppose that we would stay here like a sitting target? That Spock couldn’t calculate the probable real range of your transporter? That I couldn’t make a pretty fair off-the-wall estimate? That I couldn’t read you well enough to know that you would have to come? We couldn’t come into your hole after you, but we could lure you out of your hole. What better bait than ourselves—the only ones to whom you could show what you are? You’ve been lured, Omne. You’ve been had. We’re pleased you accepted our invitation to crash the party.”
Omne laughed again. “It would be like inviting a Fire-Dragon to a tea party. I trust you have enjoyed the company. Captain, do you really suppose that I didn’t consider even that possibility? But it is not my temperament to skulk in my hole. And I took the precaution of speed-monitoring all your tapes, with spot checks of the bridge and other key areas. You have not had an opportunity to set anything up.”
“Come, Dragon—do you suppose that we didn’t consider that possibility? Kirk smiled savagely. “You have had ample opportunity to know of our capability with the mind-link. Mr. Spock and I set something up: you.”
It was the conclusion she had reached herself—the two of them when they were alone—and she flared murder at the Vulcan through the link, understanding now his preternatural quietness and his shielding even from James, which she had taken for mere restraint ‘Allies!’ she sent scaldingly.
Spock remained obdurately silent, even in the link.
‘ Trust him, them,’ James sent, but she could feel his hurt and anger too: had they set something up without him, without her, or were they—bluffing?
“Bluff, Captain,” Omne said, but his voice lacked a fraction of an edge of certainty.
Suddenly his arm moved to lock across James’s throat and his hand moved up to touch James’s face in the position of the Vulcan mind-touch. But Omne was not a telepath—
Then she felt the great, dark mind reaching into James’s mind, a sudden, black swiftness—and” with it elements of a more familiar mind, sunlit but with its own shadows of conflict and great power leashed to discipline: the Vulcan’s mind; Spock.
Then, even as she fought to shield James she understood: Spock had been linked to Omne when he died, and Spock also had shared the ultimate fear of death.
His—emanations—had also radiated, and been recorded, intermingled with Omne’s. Spock’s powers, his knowledge, his capabilities—Omne’s now. Omne’s. The danger—
The dark mind beat at her, at James’s mind, like great black wings, and she sheltered the Human and beat the preying blackness back, back—but its power was awesome.
Then it was gone as swiftly as it had come, and she knew that it had found no plot in James’s mind or in hers.
“Bluff, Captain,” Omne said again with certainty, dropping his hand to catch James more firmly as he sagged.
Kirk swayed, but he grated out, “That, also, we had to know.”
Omne’s eyes narrowed. In spite of the negative evidence of James’s mind, he was beginning to believe. Kirk’s certainty radiated in the room. Omne shrugged. “A perfectly logical extension of the capability. Minds locked in death. Fascinating. I would have told you in time. Perhaps even this time. It will mean that I will be able to anticipate your every move.”
Kirk nodded. “Unless we are able to—think outside the phalanx. We just did.”
Omne chuckled. I am almost tempted to let James go. It would be most entertaining to watch the four of you trying to think outside the phalanx—watch the Commander and James trying to build a life together, arguing about scripts and princelings, trying to remodel the Empire, and knowing always that my shadow stands over them; that they may find me around any corner, blocking any plan; that they must try to snatch happiness from the teeth of terror—and know that the blow may fall at any moment. You and Spock, also, knowing that, and knowing how well I know you. You are all worthy opponents.” Omne smiled the wolf smile and straightened, pulling James closer. “But because you are, I cannot permit myself the luxury. I must have an ultimate hostage against you. Captain, I regret that you do not seem to be hostage for the Commander. I believe that James is—even for you.”
“He is,” Kirk said, “but you will not have him.”
“Forgive me, but I do not see how you will stop me,” Omne said urbanely. “And I do not believe I will stay to see you try. I might kill someone. And you are all so noble and so vastly entertaining. If you will excuse me—”
“You reject amnesty?” Kirk said in the tone of command—and finality.
Omne laughed. “Of course. Does the wolf accept amnesty from the lambs?”
Kirk shook his head almost sadly. “No more than the—shepherds—can let the wolf prey.” He drew himself up and seemed suddenly to tower like a monument to justice. “Then—die, Omne.”
His hand nicked in a gesture to Spock. “Now, Mr. Scott,” the Vulcan said aloud and in the link. ‘Commander, get James away—’ But at the same moment Omne reached into James’s mind and with the Vulcan’s own power snapped the link to the preoccupied Vulcan before Spock could move to defend it. Spock’s and James’s agony flared in the last of the link—and then Omne reached for her link with James. She fought—
Suddenly there was a hum and she saw Omne’s phaser shimmer in a peculiar-looking transpo
rter effect. Federation transporters couldn’t do that—could they? The transporter could have taken James’s head off.
But she didn’t question. She moved to get James away, even as he fought to free himself. But this time she had an instant to gain balance and she moved with the full training of a Romulan Commander, slashing her bladed hands into the nerve centers of the great bull shoulders and in a continuation of the same movement snatching James out of the momentarily weakened arm.
It left Jim Kirk facing Omne, and Omne still had the holstered six-shooter.
She swung James behind her and started to move again.
But Kirk had torn open the great black robe and he wore another of the old guns—McCoy’s—holstered under it.
His hand found the gun with unerring precision and with the speed of thought, even as Omne went for his.
There was a roar, and even she with Romulan senses was not certain which gun had spoken, or whether both with one voice.
But there is no mistaking the impact of a large-calibre bullet at close range.
It blasted Omne back against the wall with an impact which shook it, while his gun clattered against the wall and fell.
And she saw Kirk on his feet, the Vulcan’s hands closing on his shoulders and going white.
But it was only a moment, and then they were both moving to Omne, while she scooped up the fallen gun with the hand which was not holding James—almost holding him up.
She did not trust the great bull vitality of the dark giant, even against that doom.
Incredibly the great tree-trunk legs were still holding Omne up against the wall, although there was a hole in his chest and a wide splatter of blue green blood behind him.
The black eyes blazed with unquenchable life, and with—astonishment.
McCoy moved in with his scanner, shook his head.
“This time you are away from your equipment,” Kirk said very quietly. “It is—final.”
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