Kirk turned to him slowly. “It is you who are my—balance, sometimes my conscience. Do you say war, Spock?”
“I say there can be a time when there is no way to choose the right, because there is no right left to choose.” He looked down steadily at Kirk. “It is why one makes rules not to be broken, and chooses a man able to break them.” His eyebrow bowed in what was almost a smile. “I have never needed to be your conscience, but I suspect that this is your time to be mine. I think I know your choice—and how long we may live to regret it.”
Kirk had to smile. He nodded. “Possibly for the next thousand years.” He turned to the Commander and shook his head. “For once it is I who have to plead the Prime Directive, or perhaps even an older rule than that. I can’t murder the innocent to get to the guilty. I can’t count numbers. The right of a single innocent life has to stand against the “greater good” of billions—or we have made no gain in the last thousand years, and won’t in the next.”
The Commander raised an eyebrow in admiration, but there was something in her eyes which was still more solid. “So this is the man half a galaxy damns for trampling ‘rights’ and taking morality into his own hands?” She shook her head. I admire your conscience, Captain, and Mr. Spock’s. I will take this upon my own. I will transport to my ship. What I do will not be your responsibility.”
“It will be, if I don’t stop you,” Kirk said.
“How would you propose to stop me?” she said mildly.
He had a small feeling that his mouth was hanging open. “I thought we were in this together,” he said. “But as far as that goes, there’s the equipment—” He gestured to Spock.
“I can handle the equipment,” she said.
Slow, he thought. Hadn’t really occurred to him. But why not? His eyebrows conceded the point. Well, then, cut through to the essence. “I suppose, if it comes to that, there are three of us.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are there? Are you sure? You see, it does sometimes come down to numbers. But—if there are, Mr. Spock is badly injured and the two of you are only Human.”
“You wouldn’t—” Kirk began.
“Wouldn’t I?” she said. “To leave all three of you free of the guilt of this? I know that I am able to bear it I don’t know that about you, or James. Mr. Spock could, but I doubt that he would bear your condemnation, Captain.”
“I suppose you don’t have to worry about my condemnation.” Kirk said evenly. “But what about Spock’s? What about—James’s?”
“James has not spoken. You have assumed that you have the right to decide. Possibly he has, too. By what right? He is not under your command He was pledged to be under mine. How is your honor on that point, James?”
James shook his head. “My honor is not pledged to accept your command about this. I don’t play games with lives. If I have assumed anything about rights, it is that someone must command, and we don’t fight under Omne’s gun. However, I agree with Jim. I would not, in any case, let you take this on yourself. If we must fight you, we must, and you will nave to go through me to get to them.”
She nodded. That can be arranged.”
“And—you don’t have to worry about my condemnation?” James asked.
She lifted her head. “I am prepared to worry.”
Spock finished some setting and turned to her. “And—mine?”
“Your condemnation, among other things, I would like to avoid, Mr. Spock The other two I could deal with without undue damage to myself or them. Pack them off to my ship and resume discussions under more propitious circumstances, after the fact. You, in your present condition, I might very possibly kill, and it is conceivable that you could still kill me, and would have to. That is illogical, Mr. Spock. Wasteful.”
Spock bowed an eyebrow. “It is all of that”
“The logic is that it should not be Jim’s decision, or James’s. They are being noble about it. I told you how tired I am of nobility. It is lovely, but it has cost us a great deal before, and this price is too high. A single innocent life? Yes! Two. Theirs. And—more than life.
The worst threat is to them. Men have faced death before and will again. But they are the first to face this. You know better than any man Omne’s intention—and his power.”
“I do,” Spock said.
“Do you? And have you turned your imagination loose on it? He will be after them. He will make another copy, but he will still want these. The original, and his particular first creation. The experiences they have had today. The great adversary relationship. The contest with Jim. The offer James made—would have to make again on threat to you. The contest with you—knowing what each and both mean to you. Even, with me. You can try to protect and defend them. How will you defend both? How would they defend you, if you were captured—except with—offers?”
“Stop it!” Kirk said, seeing Spock’s face. “Whatever this leaves us with, we just have to live with it. We don’t have to dwell on it.
“We do,” she said. “We have to tell ourselves exactly what we face. We will fight Omne—I too, whatever you do. And we can lose. We will lose things we may not be able to stand, if we do not cut this at the root.” She turned to Spock again. “Either one of them or both, to death or a thousand years, uncounted thousands of years, of—slavery. Omne can prepare another retreat where we can never find him. Probably has one already. Several. Needing only to get out to get to them. He will fight us across the galaxy—for the galaxy—take it over, if for no other reason than to defeat us. He will try to set us at each other’s throats, Federation against Empire, a war of all against all, for his vengeance—because we beat him, and he will not be beaten. We made him die—and of all men he would not die.”
“That is true,” Spock said, his eyes looking into some darkness.
“It is not all,” she said inexorably. “He will do the same to others, wherever he finds love. Of all men, he hates love-and wants it. But he will begin and end with us. We showed him what love meant. Jim? James? There will be James II, James III. Omne will make copies. Some to keep. Some to—sell. We will see Kirks sold by Orion slave traders—along with green dancing girls. And each one will be Jim and James. Each as brave, as real, as valuable. Are we to spend our lives rescuing Kirks—and if we do, what will we do with them—or they with themselves?”
“Dangerous for him,” Kirk said, knowing that he had to stop her somehow. Try logic. “Copies to keep, possibly. The other would reveal his process. Have everybody in the galaxy hunting him.”
“Yes, she said, “and would he care—when he can go to ground as thoroughly as this on a single planet? When he cannot die? And—it does not help us. If the mere existence of the process becomes known, others will invent it. A question of time. Not much time. Then every miscellaneous dictator in the galaxy will have it. My Empire. Do you trust even your Federation? What about Klingons? Who is to be trusted with immortality as a weapon? Would you trust yourself not to sell your soul for a recreation of Spock on some day when he is killed?”
Kirk took a deep breath. “No,” he said.
“Nor I,” she said, answering him but looking at Spock. “And—why should he not live again? If it is possible—why should he not? Why should you not? Men of great value, to themselves and others. Women. TPau of Vulcan will die soon. Why not she? Why not Ambassador Sarek? Why not Spock’s mother, Amanda? Why not your mother, Jim? Or mine? But then—why not anyone’s mother, father, child, love? Why not the unloved? But it is bound to be an expensive process. Who pays? And who decides who is to live again?”
“I grant the difficulty,” Kirk said, “even-the impossibility. But men have faced some such problems, on a smaller scale, with many medical advances.”