nothing to her.
At the inner door she raised her hand to tap.
Omne picked the hand out of the air and drew it down to her side, held it against her lunge for her sidearm. She had killed men for less.
He saw it in her eyes and laughed silently.
She controlled herself. His strength was more than equal to holding her, certainly, unless she used advanced all-in-combat techniques.
It was not yet a time for war.
He touched the opening stud and led her in by the hand, unannounced.
Kirk sat up suddenly on the bed, startled, indignant, embarrassed now as he had had the will not to be when he was naked. He wore a short robe which was some kind of cross between an all-in-combat jacket and a hospital gown, and she suspected that he wore it backwards. The edges did not quite meet across chest and hips, and the string ties were of no assistance. Moreover, it was done in some fabric which looked like thin white velvet and clung like a live animal. There was some kind of brief in the same fabric which was supported by a low band around his hips, and provided, possibly, moral support.
He swung soft white boots to the floor and stood up. The edges of the robe fell a trifle further apart and soft folds of fabric shifted, but he had regained the control not to tug at anything. He brought his hands together in the Human military posture of parade-rest, and his manner announced again that he was clothed in dignity.
“Where I come from,” he said, “and in the civilized world, the custom is to ask permission to enter.”
“One does not ask permission of property,” Omne said.
“We have had that argument before.”
Omne smiled. “You lost.”
“Force is not an answer to argument”
“It is the last answer.”
Kirk shook his head, not deigning to answer.
The original, she thought, to the life. She found that she was holding her breath. Yes, she could understand well enough why he was the Vulcan’s price.
Omne turned to her as if reading the thought. “And what price would you pay for this one, my dear—if I were not practically throwing him into the bargain?”
“Irrelevant, since you are.”
“Not quite,” he said. “If Spock convinces me—and the delegates—presumably you will have this one, too, but as a refugee, not property. And if he does not—I am singularly hard to convince—then you would have this one as property, presumably with Spock trying to buy him. But in either case, there could be some question of the condition of the merchandise. For example, his appearance would have to be altered. Romulan ears and eyebrows you presumably would not mind. I believe you have seen them on him before. But there could be other changes. And other damages.”
“I would not take Spock’s threat lightly, if I were you,” she said, seeing Kirk’s face working at remaining set, the fine, slanting muscle in the jaw betraying him fractionally.
Omne saw it too, but kept an eye on her. He shrugged “The planet is impregnable. This compound is a fortress. The underground is a maze, with chambers which even I have not seen for twenty years.”
“Spock has a life span of perhaps two hundred years left to breach the impregnable,” she said. “He would use all of it.”
“He has perhaps two hours to storm the fortress and thread the maze. Two hours which we could better employ.” Omne’s eyes raked over Kirk slowly, and his massive arm twisted hers and drew her against his side. She could feel the heat of his body through his black silk and her tunic. “There is really no need to wait. Spock will be glad enough to accept damaged goods. If it comes to that, he will have no choice. Moreover, this one would never tell. Your old enemy, Commander, who made a fool of you in front of the Empire and the galaxy! Wouldn’t you like to see the Starship Captain beg?’
“What I like is that he would not beg.”
She saw Kirk’s eyebrows rise in astonishment
Omne jerked her to face him. “I think he would, ally. Would you care to make a small wager?”
“I will wager that I can kill you where you stand unless you unhand me and leave this room.”
Omne chuckled. “Lady, I admire your notion of odds,” he drawled. “You are nearly as interesting as the priceless price. But what’s your game? Don’t you know that you’ll never have the Vulcan while this one lives?”
I’ll never have him if this one dies. And you will never have ally or Empire if you harm him. Your bet was called, Omne. If you have no honor, I have. Spock has his two hours and his chance to pay his price. Hell get what he pays for—undamaged—or one of us will die in this room.’
Omne twisted her arm up behind her back. She set her teeth and saw Kirk gather himself. She needed the one break against an opponent of Omne’s strength and size. It was comforting to realize how certain she was of getting it. If she could have this game Human willingly, at her back or at her side, and the Vulcan at her right hand, the universe could not stand against them.
But that was a dream.
Omne laughed, whirled her, and tossed her into Kirk’s arms. The black glove blurred and the ancient Colt was in his hand, looking like the deadly weapon it was. “I can’t tell you how you terrify me, my dear,” he grinned. “Perhaps I should say, my dears. However, your point is well taken, Commander. I am not a man of honor. Our alliance does not depend upon my honor, since you know my motives and my power. It does depend upon yours, and I shall hold you to it. You also called the bet. I’ll permit you to keep this one safe for your Spock while we determine whether your Spock is a man of honor where this one is concerned. I have never allowed my satisfaction to depend upon a particular piece of property.”
He bowed, and there was some expression in his eyes which she wished she had not seen.
“And with that thought, I will leave you,” Omne said, and backed through the door.
Her hand fell to her sidearm, but she abandoned the impulse. Omne was quick and cautious and on his own territory. He might only wish to draw her out away from Kirk.
Kirk turned her slowly in his arms, and she did not resist. “Thank you,” he said simply. And after a moment, “Somehow I don’t think Spock would mind if I thanked you properly.”
She pulled his head down into the kiss, suddenly grateful that there was neither Romulan nor Vulcan need for ritual gesture and slow propriety. She lived between the stars and so did this one. So, really, did the Vulcan, but there was much he could learn about the joys of abandoning custom. She would teach him, but there might not be much that she could teach this one.
He was not used to the strength which had pulled his head down, but he had resisted it for only a heart-beat, then relaxed and trusted himself into it, concentrating a certain power of his own on taking her breath away.
On that contest, they were about even, she thought. But presently he lifted his head and she let him, let him gather her head to draw her face against his temple and cheek. He held her for a long moment. “I think he would mind more,” he said softly into her ear and brushed it with his lips, then slowly drew back from her, still holding her at a little distance.
“You are welcome,” she said with a straight face, and saw his eyes light with a glint of mischief.
“You’d have to take that up with Spock first,” he said with a little smile which was nevertheless serious.
“I intend to.”
He raised an almost Spockian eyebrow, undeterred by the fact that the other one got into the act. “A— custom of your people?”
“No. A custom of my own. I call it ‘thinking beyond the phalanx.’ Phalanx is not the word. But there are certain military problems which cannot be solved inside the standard military formations.” She smiled, also seriously. “Other problems, too. And other-formations.”
He nodded. “I know the concept. Get out of the box. Change the name of the game. He shook his head thoughtfully. “You might find that Spock and I are further outside of the phalanx than you know. In fact, I seem to be out of all boxes whatsoever.” He looked at the door. “Except this one.” He took her shoulders in his hands. “Commander, I can’t see the future, and I can’t wipe out the past—even if I never lived in it. I know you are supposed to be the enemy, and have cause to be mine. But you just acted as a friend, to Spock and to me.” He slipped his hands down to hers and lifted them. “Friends? And—allies? Where honor permits and purposes do not
