“Possibly, James, Spock said. “It remains to be seen.” He did not look back, but he seemed to see them. “Commander, will you take him away?”
She said instantly, “James. Come.”
She quickly brought her arm up under the Human’s thighs and carried him away and out, as Omne roared and lunged for Spock.
CHAPTER XV
Spock leaped aside with a slash of his bladed hand to Omne’s shoulder, and a smash of a boot at a knee to bring the big man down.
Omne fell heavily, rolled up.
Spock twisted in air to land on his feet and saw the Commander carrying James.
Keep the trust, Spock thought, wishing that he could reach her mind to think it to her. Please be able to keep the trust.
He smashed a boot into Omne’s kneecap and vaulted away.
He must adopt Kirk’s tactics. The giant had all the advantages—the weight, the size, the fury.
Only Spock’s fury matched the giant’s—and that the Vulcan in him must master.
As an officer he had fought to kill, and killed when duty demanded. But he had never fought in the lust to kill, not even fully as a Vulcan when any Vulcan would have—in the arena of challenge, against Kirk.
But he was fighting in the lust to kill now. For Kirk. For both of him.
And for both of him Spock must not kill.
He couldn’t risk it in a thousand years. He would never find Kirk. Never know whether the dead giant was alive and with Kirk… or coming after James…
The giant’s bull charge swerved with deceptive speed, anticipating the direction of Spock’s evasion. Massive hands smashed into the Vulcan’s neck and low over his heart, and a knee caught him in the groin.
He rolled end over end and crawled to get away, fighting blind agony, scuttling around a corner as the giant dived, sparing no thought for dignity.
There is no pain, he told himself, clamping down with all of the Vulcan training and all his will. It was not enough, but it would have to do.
He gained his feet.
His calculator could estimate the giant’s exact power now, and did so, unbidden, dispassionately reporting minute odds that Spock would leave the room alive, even if he fought to kill. And still more microscopic odds if he did not try to kill but tried to take the giant hulk apart until a forced mind-probe would rip out by the roots the knowledge of Kirk’s location.
It was against the deepest custom of privacy. The forced probe was forbidden. But it could be done, and would.
And Spock knew that his calculator was right. But it was also wrong.
He would win.
He had to win.
He slugged a fist into Omne’s stomach.
CHAPTER XVI
The Commander ducked in through the door with the Human, steadying him on his feet and stepping back to put her back against the door.
A quick sweep of his eyes determined that there was no other door in the small office, as she had remembered from their searches. Then his eyes met hers and said that he would go through her, one way or another.
When low, urgent words had not worked as she carried him out and down the corridor, he had tried plain effort. He could not quite bring himself to hit her, but he had arched and twisted and strained, skillfully, with all his muscle and quickness.
He could not believe hers.
And then he had hit her. A double chop to the shoulder nerves.
That was not to be taken lightly. He was powerful for a Human. But she had not let it loosen her grip.
But she had been holding him too tightly, hurting him too much. And if guards had stumbled across them…
“I cannot move you through the corridors like this,” she said.
“No,” he answered. “Commander, you know that we have to get back to Spock. It’s not true. I won’t throw my life away—and we can’t let him do it. Please. It’s Spock.”
“It is—Spock—for me, too,” she said heavily, feeling that fact pounding in every nerve. It was Spock—and he had no real chance at all without her. He was covering their retreat with his life, whatever he said, and their retreat was not possible unless this one yielded. Even if she knocked him out, not even her strength was equal to forty-odd floors of ladder tubes under his weight.
“I know it is Spock to you, too,” he said softly. “Don’t you see, we can’t leave him. You can’t take me and leave him. Double or nothing. He said it himself.”
She nodded. “But he gave me—a trust.”
But he said, “I’ll be careful. My word on it.”
Somewhere she found a smile. “I would take your word—for anything else.”
He found the grace to grin, but his eyes crackled with anger and burned with desperation. “Damn it, I am not fragile. I’m a Starship Captain. I’ve fought the Gorn. I’ve fought Spock. I’ve fought Omne.”
She nodded. “And you lost.”
She saw him swallow, and knew that his body still burned with the memory of that loss.
“So, I lost,” he said firmly. “There would be three of us now. But if I lost again, that would still be better than leaving Spock.”
“Not for Spock. And not for me.”
His brows furrowed, half following the thought, half dismissing the notion that he could mean more to her than Spock. He caught his lip between his teeth. “Then you go. Leave me. Lock me in if you don’t trust me. But go to him now.”
She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, in silent token of how much that must have cost him. This one—first among men wherever he roamed—to let her do his fighting for him? There was depth beyond depth to this one. It might even give him some slim chance to survive when—”Not even that,” she said, shaking her head regretfully. “Locks might not hold you—or might hold you too well. Guards could find you. Omne would find you if I lost with Spock. Spock would not forgive me. Nor I, myself. Spock has made his choice.” She drew a deep breath and put her other hand lightly on his other shoulder. “And—I have made mine, James.”
He took her face in his hands, promising the fullness of the kind of choice he could make, too. Then—for me. Please.”
He could melt stone, she thought, looking into the expressive face. Melt stone hearts. Vulcan. Romulan. The galaxy could not stand against him. How many hearts had he melted, how many faces warmed with those gentle, demanding hands? And yet she would have his innocence, this one who knew—and had never been touched. She would have him, if she let him have his way now. And if not, she could lose him forever. But she would lose him forever if she melted now.
“No,” she said, not trusting herself to say more.
He backed away, disengaging his hands and hers. “Then listen. If you do not go, I will not move from this spot. If you carry me, you will never get me away. I guarantee I will fight you and slow you and try to break free, until we go for Spock—or Omne finds us. And when he does, I will renew my offer, for Kirk. You will never have me. But if you should, by some thousandth chance, get me away, you will still never have me if Spock dies. Unless you care to keep me as a captive.”
“I would,” she heard herself saying, and saw it jolt him. She lifted her chin. “I will. I am. Impasse, Captain.” She threw back her shoulders in the stance of the Fleet Commander. Two can play at that game.”
His eyes suddenly believed her, and they were very close to tears, burning with rage and sheer frustration, one breath away from drowning in grief. “It is no game to me, and I am not playing.
“I know,” she said. “Nor I.”
He stood silent and she saw him struggling for thought against the impulse to take her by the throat. “Very well,” he said in the voice of the Starship Captain. “What I said goes. But I don’t play alpha games with lives, or—fight in a burning house. Someone must always command. Command, Commander. Find something useful to do, for both of us.”