The Commander moved forward, not willing to count on that.
Spock moved with her. “Have the grace to make your offer in front of us, James,” he said in a sudden tone of vast weariness. “It concerns us.”
The Human’s eyes softened with compassion and with the look of being known too well. “Of course it does,” he said softly, “but you do not have to hear it.”
“You should not make it,” Spock said, “but if you must, we must hear.”
The Human nodded.
Omne grinned. “Ah, you are all so noble, and so vastly entertaining. I think I am going to enjoy this.” He raised an eyebrow at the Human. I trust you will make me your best offer.”
“Certainly,” the Human said. “It is not a question of nobility. It is a question of logic. Logic is the recognition of reality, even when it hurts, even when it conflicts with feelings, hopes. But reality also includes feelings, hopes, needs, purposes, rights. And—differences. Prices to be paid. He looked at Spock. “Jim Kirk offered to buy your freedom and mine. He has already—paid. Can—James—do less?”
“More,” Spock said instantly. “Fight for both of you. Double or nothing. He would. He—did.”
James Kirk spread his hands. “I am not he. There is—the difference. I have less to lose and nowhere to go. But I have—my price. And a stack of chips.” He turned to Omne. “Their freedom. Spock’s. Jim’s. Hers. Full and complete. No strings. No scripts. Spock would see you in hell before he would do his script if you accept my offer. And probably even if you don’t. And I buy only the real thing for Kirk—the life which should have been his. The Enterprise. Spock at his side. It will be easy enough to write a cover story for the death. It was an impersonator who died. Plastic surgery. Unidentifiable charred remains. Regrettable error. Dastardly plot. The kidnapped Kirk was recovered by the astute Omne. Whatever.”
“Your price seems a bit steep,” Omne said, “especially since I have all four of you and have no need to let any of you go.”
“You cannot, in fact, murder the Commander and Spock. It would reek to high heaven—and to the high command of Federation and Empire. You can be had, eventually. The same goes if you let either or both go —but in spades. Unless you have a hostage for both. You have just learned that Jim Kirk is not—necessarily—hostage for the Commander.”
“But you are?” Omne said with amusement
“I think so.” The level eyes met hers.
She did not answer. But she had given her answer.
“And for Spock?” Omne asked.
“Yes.”
Omne smiled. You do not underestimate yourself. You may overestimate my interest in avoiding trouble. Is that your whole stack of chips?”
“No.”
“What then, that I cannot have by keeping Jim Kirk—or both of you?”
The white shoulders leveled. “Ownership.”
Omne laughed, startled. “That is your offer—the offer of the man who won’t be owned?”
“Of that man.” The shoulders and voice were steady. “That is why you have spoken of ownership, claimed it, wanted it—and wanted it only from a man who would not be owned.”
“I own—the other.”
“No. And you never will. You have taken what you wanted. You can never make him give it. Obedience. Acknowledgement. Consent. You have no threat left to make and no value to offer him.”
“And you? Even if I accepted, would that not make you the man who can be owned?”
James Kirk shook his head. “In that, there is no difference. You would always know it. You would own the unownable.”
Omne smiled thinly. “I grant that it would be a delicious paradox. I grant, even, that no threat would move you, either. But I do not think that I care to buy you only with the value of other lives.”
“That is the difference.” The white shoulders stretched. “You have also another value which you can offer only to me. Yourself. You are—my creator. You have created me—and my unique metaphysical problem. You are my Pygmalion, my Frankenstein. And I am your own particular monster. It is a kind of bond. I can stay here for a thousand years—or until we settle with it.”’
Omne stood silent, and the Commander knew suddenly that he was buying it. James Kirk had found Black Omne’s price.
Omne gathered himself with the look of making one more effort. “I could create another.”
“He would not be me. He would not be the first. Not the first ever to have to face the issue—and you. If I stay, you will never create another. He would be missing—too much. From the moment of creation, there is—a difference. So—that also is a value, for me. It ends with me—and you. A private universe here, for two, and the universe goes on undisturbed.”
“While we two settle with the problems of life and death and immortality,” Omne mused. “The solution has a certain elegance, a certain grandeur. My compliments.”
“Your acceptance will do. Do you call my—raise?”
“The original—against my original,” Omne laughed. “I could not have chosen either better. Both worth a galaxy’s ransom. Both with an understanding of—elemental needs. Both with a gambler’s nerve. The black eyes narrowed. “But—you are both masters of bluff. The price is steep, James, for both of us. I have the chips to call. Do you? You’ve shoved an I. O. U. into the pot. It requires—a down payment. An earnest show of good faith. Of honor. Omne glanced at Spock and the Commander. “And—it requires cosigners. Will they stand tied for it?”
James Kirk looked at Omne unflinchingly, then at Spock and the Commander. “I will—beg—them to, by their love, by my right—and the right of Jim Kirk. It is the only way.” He grinned at them fractionally. “A crooked game— but the only game in town. You are not to worry. I have the chips.
She found that she could not even shake her head for watching. So this was how the man of command would—beg.
“Prove it,” Omne said, his eyes on the man in white, his gun on the motionless Vulcan.
James Kirk stepped forward slowly, lightly, no limp in his walk, stressing ease, stressing ownership of the chips, stressing the wealth of the willingness to pay the price.
“I can afford the luxury,” he said and sank to his knees in front of Omne.
Not a line of the kneeling body betrayed fear or horror. But she saw the fine hair standing in the frozen chill of gooseflesh on the back of the bowed neck.
“So can I,” Omne said. And looked down.
She moved. But Spock was already a blur of motion.
His boot caught the gun and sent it flying.
And in the same split moment he had lifted the Human and flung him into her arms.
She caught him as Spock took a stand before them to shield them with his body. “I am changing the name of the game,” he said.
She saw Omne set to go through Spock that instant, then saw the black eyes calculate chances and speculate on what she would do with the stunned Human.
Omne straightened. “Name it,” he said to Spock.
The Human gained his feet slowly in her arms, started to lunge forward, was held. “Let me go!” he gasped. “Spock, no!”
“New script,” Spock said. “I will not have this double die.”
“I wasn’t going to die, Spock,” the Human said, but his breath had caught in something very like a sob.
“It would have been death for you, and worse. I told you. You are not expendable.”
“And—” the Human’s voice caught—”your Kirk is?”
“You are both ‘my’ Kirk,” Spock said.
“It is his life you are throwing away. Or worse that you are condemning him to,” the Human answered.
“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
