too?”
“But of course,” Omne said smoothly. “That also is on tape. I must say, it has been my one disappointment in you. You had ample opportunity to know that I could tap into your intercom system. You have been rather leisurely. You might have done me the honor of moving out at warp eight But I suppose that you can be forgiven a certain lingering shock.
She grimaced. In fact the delay had worried her. But she had seen no means of avoiding it. The problems had to be worked through—political, medical-even the problems of metaphysics, even the emotions; the Vulcan had known it as well as any of them, perhaps better. “We were entitled,” she said. “However, we had our reasons. And we have said nothing which you could not infer from the plain fact of James in the Empire.”
Omne nodded. “Except perhaps for the delightful picture of the princeling. You have been practically shellmouths on the subject of how you propose to cope with me. It is a problem, you know. I cannot, of course, permit the alliance of Federation and Empire.”
“You cannot prevent it,” she said. “You yourself have forged the bond.”
Omne nodded. “That I must undo, before the welding becomes too solid. It was a risk I took. It was necessary to test the process against the best the galaxy had to offer.” He bowed fractionally to them. I had not fully reckoned with how good the best could be.”
They all stood carved in stone.
She understood it only as she did it, standing without even a nod in return. And she saw the understanding and the hate flare in Omne’s eyes. He could accept their acknowledgement. They could not grant the value of his.
He locked down to savage control and nodded slowly. “I will not say that it was necessary to test your best with my worst. But because I did, you may not have taken my galactic purpose seriously enough. You, Commander, could still believe that I would fight you to take over the galaxy. I am far more dangerous than that. I have no ambition to be a petty dictator—even of a galaxy. You will learn to your cost that I genuinely am an advocate of freedom—no matter how hell-busted or weather-beaten the fragile ideal may be, or the outlaw who defends it.”
He looked at them gravely, and for a moment they all must have seen the enduring purpose in the black eyes: the lie he had wanted them to speak which was the truth a certain man had learned when love died. For a moment she thought that she saw that man’s face in the face of Omne: a younger face, alien—and, somehow, without sin. Was that what Omne had been?
He put the face away, as he must have put it away long ago.
But the grave look remained for a moment. “The last thing I can permit is your alliance, if I must kill you to prevent it. Nor was it any part of my plan to give a Kirk to each side. Nor will I.
He tightened his hold on James. She stiffened.
“You nave no Kirk to give,” James said through his teeth.
Omne laughed. “But I have. You are created life: property, mine—and—the property of the victor.”
“You lost,” James grated out.
Omne chuckled. “Come, princeling, it was you who told me that force is not an answer to argument. Do you now wish to contend that it is? But I have won on that count, too. I died for the privilege. However, we can have many such arguments—for the next thousand years. I really cannot loose you on the galaxy; one Kirk is already an embarrassment of riches. He will yet weld empires together wall to wall across the galaxy, leaving not even a hole in the wall for freedom—or a wolf loose in the galaxy. Except, of course, me. But I will be wolf enough.”
“Omne,” Kirk cut in, “are you not wolf enough—or man enough—to face two of us?”
Omne smiled. “Why, yes, Captain. You may come, too, if you wish. I am still giving some thought to taking the original—or both of you. In time you would not only be mastered, but would see my idea of freedom. I could use a Kirk or two who did.”
Kirk shook his head. “Not in a thousand years.”
“We would have forever,” Omne said gravely, and then smiled. “However, just at the moment your disappearance might raise inconvenient questions about the process. The disappearance of James will not, since he does not exist.
“The disappearance of James would raise more than a question,” the Commander said flatly.
Omne grinned. “I cannot tell you how you terrify me, my dear.” He shrugged. “To whom would you appeal for help? Your Empire? The Federation? To what Geneva convention? Who is being held prisoner, you say? Captain Kirk? But he is on the Enterprise. A Captain Kirk who has elegant ears and looks rather like a Romulan princeling? But, my dear Commander, are you certain you have not been overworking?”
“I would not require help to take you apart,” she said, but in fact she knew that he was right. Once he was back behind his shields—She tried to picture arguing with Omne’s trustees, with the conference of delegates, for permission to search the planet. No. He was not leaving with James—certainly not without her.
There had to be a moment when she could at least throw herself into the transporter effect with them.
It was a conclusion her whole body had reached long ago, she realized, finding herself poised for it.
‘No’, James said silently through the link, but she did not argue.
“She has help,” Kirk said quietly, stepping forward to face Omne. “The alliance has begun. Nothing will break it, or us. As for James, what I said about the right of one innocent life goes for us, too. We have the right to defend ourselves and each other. You may think that under no circumstance can we do anything to risk revealing the process. Wrong. We can if we must. It would be a grave step, but we are prepared to face the consequences. Under no circumstance are we prepared to surrender any one of us to death or captivity or your games—not one of us, not anyone else dear to us, not anyone under our commands, and, so far as we are able, not anyone at all.”
Omne lifted a black eyebrow dangerously. “Captain, you require another lesson in mastery.”
Kirk shook his head. “You require the lesson.” He straightened further and stood very quiet, but there was an electric quality in the quietness, a sense of crackling power perhaps even to match Omne’s. She looked at him in astonishment. Had she missed something? This was not the look or tone of defeat, but nothing had happened. Had his mind snapped? Did he have some sick need to reassert himself against Omne? But it was not the tone of madness.
“Omne,” he said, “yours is not an innocent life. For what you have done—to name only kidnapping—death is the ancient penalty. For what you have done which cannot be named by ancient or modern law, death is not too great a penalty—even for an immortal. For what you will do, death is not even penalty enough. We have no forgiveness. The—wolves—here would like to tear out your throat. I would. But we have made some effort to claw our way out of swamp and jungle. We cannot offer you trial—or treatment, if we supposed you to be insane. It is not our way to execute in the manner of murder. But you have placed yourself outside our law, and outside the pale. One thing, however, we recognize: your achievement, and the mind which was capable of it. There is one way in which you can still be honored for that, and in which the achievement can take its proper place in the galaxy. We offer no forgiveness or pardon, but I offer amnesty on one sole condition: that you surrender the process and agree never to use it privately, on pain of death, while we in this room, including you, become a commission to oversee its careful, proper introduction to the galaxy. I offer amnesty, honor, life—as against death with finality. Choose now.”
Omne heard him out with the incredulous look of an astonishment too profound even for anger.
The giant laughed, roared. “You offer me amnesty? You act as if you had the power to offer me anything? To threaten me?”
Kirk stood unmoved. “I ask you to believe that I do. I offer you one chance, Omne. Choose.”
“Captain,” Omne said with exaggerated patience. I just mopped up the floor with all of you. I assure you that I shielded my beam so that Mr. Scott will not have detected it. I am aware that you are stalling, but I would appreciate it if you would do it in a more plausible manner. You really cannot draw to a pair and then bluff like a pat hand. Bad poker, Captain.
“You hold the dead man’s hand, Omne, against—four of a kind.” Kirk shifted fractionally. “Did you really suppose that we would stay here like a sitting target? That Spock couldn’t calculate the probable real range of your transporter? That I couldn’t make a pretty fair off-the-wall estimate? That I couldn’t read you well enough to know that you would have to come? We couldn’t come into your hole after you, but we could lure you out of your hole. What better bait than ourselves—the only ones to whom you could show what you are? You’ve been lured, Omne.
