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James Kirk’s eyes suppressed any flicker of motion.

‘I will keep it now, for both of them,” Spock said.

Omne shook his head. “That was not the question, Mr. Spock—nor the bargain. The galactic script for—one copy. Would you have made good on that—and will you?”

Spock met James Kirk’s eyes. “My intention was to play out the script.”

Omne must have felt a faint movement which the Commander’s eyes could not detect. He looked down at the man he held. “That pleases you?”

“Spock plays them as he sees them,” James Kirk said, his words for Omne, his eyes only for Spock. “He has never played me false.”

“He has had precious little time,” Omne said rather harshly. “You have no ‘never’ with him.”

James Kirk straightened the tightly held shoulders further. “I have all that it is possible for me to have.”

“Then let us find out what that is,” Omne said grimly. He started to draw the Human closer against him and back down the hall toward an open door which led into a big lab. Omne wanted to be out of the way of stray guards, she thought, and followed helplessly, as did the Vulcan, while Omne continued with complete control. “The bets are still down, Spock. Mine stands. I will ignore the fact that the three of you have caused me certain inconveniences and doubtless damaged some guards. It is what they get paid for. You and the Commander may take this one, as agreed. The Commander can stay with him and supervise the—alterations—while you give your performance. In an hour I will beam the three of you to her ship—if you have any intention of honor.”

“My intention,” Spock said carefully, watching for any chance and seeing none, “was based on the slim chance that you would honor your word, and the greater chance that you would break it at some point, releasing me from mine. The damage done by a speech can be repaired. A life is irreplaceable—even now.”

Omne chuckled, shepherding them into an open space in the big lab. “You do feel that about this one-even now? But that is the complete success of my process. The copy is so perfect that he is irreplaceable to you—even though I could make another. And do you speak of honoring your word, Spock? For him?”

‘In fact, one owes no honor to force,” Spock said. “You forfeited all rights in this matter from the beginning. But it is impossible for men to deal with each other, even under duress, especially under duress, if there is no word. Speech becomes noise. Yours is. Yours was always a crooked game, and now you have broken letter and spirit of any agreement—and every law of decency. All bets are off.”

“Irrelevant, Mr. Spock, whether true or not. No bets are off. The question is, Do you want this one?”

“Both of them,” Spock said.

“That you cannot have,” Omne answered. “Apart from anything else, can you conceive of turning up with both of them—in the Romulan Empire?”

“I will undertake to solve that problem,” the Commander said flatly.

Omne raised an eyebrow to her. “My dear, do you not think that that might be an embarrassment of riches, even for you?”

“I’ll manage,” she said.

Omne laughed. “Perhaps you could, at that. However—” He looked back to Spock. “The Commander can verify part of this. The—damages—to the—other merchandise—have been repaired. There is no pain now and no threat to his fife, now or ever. He has accommodated to his situation. He is hostage for your dubious word for the next two hundred years. He chooses to live even in those circumstances. He is quite beyond your reach or finding, beyond anyone’s but mine. Wherever you thought he was a moment ago, he is not now. However you found him here, you seem to have lost him now. Were you to kill me now where I stand, you would never reach the surface, and no one would ever reach him. There is food, water, air. He might last a hundred years. Alone.”

“What of your boast that death would not inconvenience you?’ the Commander said, filling it in for Spock. “The automatic machinery—set for you—and him?”

Spock did not look surprised.

Omne shrugged. “I might have lied. I am not a man of honor. If I didn’t, then my death here or elsewhere, now or later, would only start the game again. If I did or didn’t, you would never know it. Unless I so chose. My estate here is set up in trust in capable hands. It will run for a thousand years, perhaps forever, if I die or disappear.” He raised the gun to his temple. “It may be that I could go now by still another exit, to join Kirk—or leave him alone. Would you care to chance it?”

“No,” Spock said.

Omne laughed and dropped the gun into his holster. “Then you will not chance it in a thousand years.”

The Commander considered. From a standing draw she could needle-beam a target considerably smaller than the part of the massive head showing above and beside her Kirk’s. And her right-hand gun had fired true. Omne’s argument went for Spock. Did it go for her? Her Kirk was here. She had not pledged “friends” with the other, only acted the friend. And wouldn’t a true friend kill Omne for Kirk now? Wouldn’t he a thousand times rather be alone? Truth or lie, this Omne dead would buy a little time to look. And when she thought the time was up, she could make these two go—if necessary at the point of a gun. Kirk might even want that. He deserved better. But there were her needs, too. And there was reality.

“No, Commander!”

She stopped her hand before it moved. Her Kirk had spoken in the voice of the Starship Captain. Her thought had crystallized almost faster than words. She had not thought that she had telegraphed it by the flicker of a muscle. Omne had not read it but her Kirk had.

Spock looked at her.

Omne said, “Well, well, my dear,” and pulled his gun again. “Mr. Spock, you will relieve Calamity Jane of the hardware. That is a disposal chute directly to your left.”

Spock moved behind her to take her two guns, looking not at her but at James Kirk.

She was certain that for a long moment Spock contemplated some such decision as she had. He must regard her action as a kind of betrayal. And what was he to make of the Human’s action in stopping her? Defense of the real Kirk—or betrayal of them all? Some game of his own? This Kirk was up to something, and the Vulcan didn’t like it.

But Omne’s argument still went for the Vulcan.

Spock dropped three guns in the chute.

“Excellent, Mr. Spock,” Omne said. “So much for Romulan honor—and possibly Human. However, you should thank the Human for your life, my dear. I would have outdrawn you.”

“Conceivably,” she said, “but you would still have been dead, and Spock and this Human alive.”

Omne raised an eyebrow. “This one? You do not mention the other?”

“He, too,” she said with effort

“He is the point,” the Human cut in. There is a logic to this situation which you have all missed.”

Indeed?” Omne said. “Have you learned logic from Spock, Human?”

The Human shook his head and smiled fractionally at Spock. “Poker,” he said. “I just dealt myself a hand.” He twisted a little to look up at Omne. “Release me and let me face you.”

“No, James,” Spock said with quiet urgency, as if he knew this man and that tone too well.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Spock,” the Human said firmly, in the tone of command.

Omne raised an interested eyebrow and smiled, then released the human, giving him a little whirl out to form the third point of a triangle. “Place your bet.”

The Human caught himself and straightened. “A two-handed game,” he said, jerking his head to indicate drawing Omne aside to talk privately.

Omne smiled indulgently. If you have some thought of throwing yourself on my gun, so that they can try to take me with muscle, I assure you that you overestimate Mr. Spock, and the Commander is not in the picture.”