with great difficulty and risk—anywhere within the Federation. I do have one recommendation. With my parents on Vulcan. The Vulcan respect for privacy, the custom of a guest friend—with a sufficient cover story, it would do, and my father would be considerable protection for him. We would have plausible reason to visit—”
The Commander’s eyebrows were rising dangerously.
“My God,” Kirk said, and his shoulders slumped as if a weight had finally broken them. He looked at James with a terrible vista of loss opening before his eyes. “He—can’t. You can’t, James. I—couldn’t.” He caught his breath. “I—can’t. What even makes it-James? By what right? I can’t name one. No difference. But—I’m not willing to give this up.” His hand indicated the ship, perhaps the stars, Spock, McCoy… “How could you be? You couldn’t. He looked at Spock. “There has to be another way.”
“I see none,” Spock said. “The problem is insoluble, and must be solved. Where there is identity, there is not, in logic, difference. And yet there is difference here. Perhaps there is no right, but our assumption—I believe even James has shared it—has been that there must be some right of—the original.”
“You don’t even know about that.” Kirk said suddenly. “You have only my word that I didn’t lose consciousness. You haven’t linked with me.”
Spock’s face softened and James felt the sudden surge of pride. “Not necessary, Jim. No identical Kirk would lie about that. I doubt the same could be said of any other man.”
Kirk smiled painfully. “I could name one or two. Although—I’m not sure that any man is proof against this. With time to think about it—” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust myself.”
“You trust James,” Spock said, his eyes pointing James out, underlining that he had been free on the Enterprise, was now dressed identically with Kirk.
Kirk grinned as if caught. “Yes, I guess I do.” He flashed a look at James. “Didn’t occur to me. I guess it didn’t have to. But the fact remains—”
James nodded. “Given time, possibly. And if there were no difference.”
“But there is a difference,” the Commander said. “Listen to you, proposing to dispose of his life. As if he belonged to you.” She faced Spock with fire in her eyes. “He does not, you know. Vulcan, indeed! Is he to grow quivas? Dabble in trillium? Sit on daddy’s knee? The first fighting commander of half a galaxy? The first in war—and peace? A man who was willing to sell his freedom for yours—to lose his? The freedom of the stars?”
“If he does not belong to us,” Spock said, “to whom does he belong? To you? “
The Commander threw back her head and locked eyes with Spock. Yes!” she said.
“What?” McCoy interjected, and Kirk looked at her, startled.
“I claim him,” she said, facing all of them. “I fought for him. I saved his life, and more. By the custom of my people, he is mine if I want him. I want him.”
“You mean—” McCoy said, “—you don’t mean—you own him? Not literally.”
“Why not?” she said. “I challenged for a captive. As it was in the time of the beginning—so is it now: the property of the victor.”
“I thought—Spock fought Omne?” McCoy said.
“Once, she said, “—and only because I allowed it to keep this one safe. That was my victory, and it makes Spock’s victory mine, too. And—I saved this one from damage earlier. I consider that Spock fought for the original. I did, too, but I will not be greedy. It could be an embarrassment of riches.”
“Well, that’s something,” McCoy sputtered. “But—you’re not serious—”
“Never more,” she said. “Spock, can you dispute the right by the custom we share from before the beginning of the division of our peoples?”
“Not by that custom,” Spock said grimly. “But I do dispute it.”
“Then where is your Prime Directive?” she said. “It is my custom.”
“It is his life,” Kirk said flatly.
“I was wondering if that would occur to anybody.”
James said. He stood up and whirled the Commander to face him. “Don’t you think that you ought to ask me about that?”
She arched an eyebrow shamelessly. “Only if you will give the right answer.”
“Otherwise, just pack me off to your ship?”
“Very possibly,” she said. “My people would object to you a good deal less as my captive than as my companion.”
“Which place did you offer?” he asked.
“Neither,” she said. “There is not a name for the place I would make for you—or for the place you would have to make for yourself. Except as my Human captive—and bed warmer—you could not be with me except as a Romulan, with no man to know what you are, or what you are to me. You would have to rise on your own merit— without benefit of muscle—for you have no muscle there. Not one fight—for you would not only be smashed, you would be discovered, and I with you. I can create an identity for you, but the cover would point to me if you became known. It would have to, but also I will see to it. That would be my protection against your impetuousness. You would risk yourself. You would not risk me.”
James felt that his breathing was not quite in order, that there were held breaths in two other bodies linked with his, reverberating in his. “You assume a great deal,” he said carefully.
“Am I wrong? Illogical? Presumptuous?” She shook her head. “You want it so badly that you can taste it. The fight. The challenge. The galactic cause cut out to be your size. Rebuilding the Empire at my side. Forging a link to the Federation—creating a peace you could not build in any other way. The continuation of your chosen job. The stars. Your place, your job, your life. Even Spock and Jim from time to time, and not as a—pensioner. Of equal stature in the fight we must all undertake. A chance at Omne—and a chance to present a moving target.”
“Out of the frying pan,” McCoy said. “Are you both crazy? He can’t pass as a Romulan. An hour maybe—with a lot of luck, a lucky punch. Crazy even then. But we didn’t know about Romulans then. Couldn’t be sure they had Vulcanoid strength. I found that out for sure when you were our—guest. Different molecular structure, bone, muscle—heavier, stronger. A whole different ball game. He wouldn’t last a minute—even against you.”
“He would last considerably less than a minute,” she said.
“I’ve lasted with Spock,” James said, not bothering with the difference.
“Even Spock is not a Romulan Commander in full training,” she said. “More muscle—not so much more as you would think. Less technique. Too many centuries of peace. A certain softness even in Star Fleet.” She shook her head. “But you have lasted for the same reason you would last with me. He has never fought you at full strength— and he has pulled you out of more fires than you can count.”
“He has that, ” James said.
“I have not had to try to keep him alive in the Romulan Empire,” Spock said. “And not as a Romulan.”
“You were willing to try, when Omne proposed it.”
“No option,” Spock said. “But I would have made one, at some point. The prospect of years—decades—of that— It would be beyond my capacity—and yours.”
“It is not beyond mine, Spock. I kept the trust. I will keep it still. I got him to accept my command. He will again—and I will keep him safe. Train him. Guard him. Comfort and keep him. Bend his stiff neck for him when he needs it.” She turned to James and smiled up at him. “It will be hard on you, harder than you can imagine. The alpha male of half a galaxy, to accept command, and mine, and to walk softly? Bluff, perhaps. Never fight. Know the difference—and never let anyone else know it. Know—me, and never let anyone else know that—for they would have you for breakfast and use you against me, if they knew—my price.” Her smile was open confession now, and open challenge. “The man hasn’t lived who could do that—but I think he was born today, and—not born yesterday. You know that it will not work if you want only the place, the fight. I do not offer you refuge. But if it is not that-“
“I do not need refuge,” James began.
“Wait,” Kirk said urgently and came off the bed, shakily, but came to them, came and put his hand on James’s arm. “Before you say it—Hell, I can see it. I can see her. But your life is here, your friends, family—more.” He looked at Spock. “We can’t do this to him.” He looked back to meet James’s eyes. “This is the real crunch of the premise of identical doubles, identical real men. It’s a problem even of metaphysics. I don’t even see that there’s a right of the original—and I want to claim that right so badly that my teeth ache. But you have every right to everything that is mine—life, property, place, command, friends, family, more; to my—memories: yours, ours.” He straightened his shoulders as if they would break. “No difference. Yet, I know I can’t offer to—go off into the night.
