Текст книги "Killing Time "

Автор книги: Della Hise

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Chapter Twenty

McCoy SHOOK HIS head, pacing across the quarters and staring at the Vulcan who remained unconscious on the bed. Color gone, breathing shallow, blood-pressure almost nonexistent; defeatedly, McCoy slammed his fist against the wall as his eyes sought S'Parva's.

"There's nothing more I can do for him," he murmured, trying to make himself accept that unacceptable statement. He cared for the Vulcan—perhaps more than professional ethics should have permitted—and the knowledge that all the galaxy's medical skills couldn't help left him angry.

"If the Romulans discover this, Doctor," S'Parva said quietly, "they will soon realize that our commander is not who he is claiming to be. If Tazol begins to suspect …" Her voice trailed off. "Though they are physiologically similar, Romulans do not undergo the time of mating. . . ."

"Tazol need not know," a deep female voice intoned from the doorway of the large room.

McCoy whirled about to see Thea standing just inside the quarters, her own eyes fixed on the unconscious Vulcan. Anger flared again. "How long have you been standing there eavesdropping?" he demanded harshly.

"Long enough to receive confirmation of my suspicions, Doctor," the Romulan woman replied. She met the physician's wary eyes. "Can you help him?" she asked pointedly.

McCoy bounced on his toes. "If I could help him," he snapped, "I wouldn't be standing here!" He tried to shove his own emotions into the background, but found they wouldn't leave him alone. "And just what do you propose to do now?" he demanded. "Shove Spock into the nearest disposal unit and find someone elseto pawn off as the Praetor?" He didn't wait for a response. "If you can't handle your own responsibilities," he accused, taking a step nearer to the woman and staring down at her through hot blue eyes, "then you've got no business even beingthe Praetor! Hell," he added, finding the Judas-goat he needed, "it would suit mefine if the Warriors didoverthrow your glorious rule and you right along with it!"

"Do not forget, Doctor McCoy," Thea interrupted levelly, "that I am quite capable of snapping your spinal cord should you provoke me sufficiently." She held the damning gaze steadily. "And you may rest assured that I have suspected the nature of Captain Spock's illness for quite some time." She smiled gently in S'Parva's direction. "Your assumption that Romulans do not undergo pon farris essentially correct," she stated. "However, despite mutations which have occurred in both species since our biological paths forked several million years ago, even certain Romulans aretelepathically … receptive to this … condition."

McCoy's brows knotted as he struggled to hold his temper at bay. For himself, he didn't particularly care if Thea didbreak his neck; but for Spock's sake, he forced himself to listen. "Can youhelp him?" he demanded.

Thea stepped away from the doctor without responding and went to kneel by the Vulcan's bed. With one hand, she gathered the limp fingers in her own, entwining them. The other hand moved to the fevered brow in a motion not unlike a caress.

"Leave us," she commanded. "There areRomulan methods of reaching into the mind of one such as your stubborn captain; but I shall not employ them to satisfy your curiosity." She glanced up. "Leave us," she repeated.

Bur McCoy moved forward defensively. "Not a chance," he countered. "Spock's mypatient, and I'm not in the habit of leaving an unconscious man at the mercy of the enemy!"

Thea's eyes turned cold as she faced the doctor, slowly removing her hand from the Vulcan's forehead. As the physical contact was broken, the captain moved restlessly, reaching out blindly for the phantom hand.

"Then you condemn him to death with your petty professional jealousy," she pointed out. "Do you deny that you are unable to help him?"

Refusing to budge, McCoy shook his head. "If I can't save his life now, then I canadminister a drug which will put his body in a state of hibernation."

Thea smiled wistfully. "An effort to stall the inevitable at best," she deduced, her eyes closing for a moment. "No … I cannot permit that. Time will not stand still, Doctor; and I need your commander at the palace tomorrow." She rose from the floor, moving to the desk and activating a communication panel. A moment later, Tasme and Sekor entered the room. "You will both go with my personal attendants," she instructed McCoy. "And you will not disturb me again until I send for you. If I require your medical services when Spock regains consciousness, I will send for you."

McCoy stared at the two slaves; but despite his personal wish to remain at the Vulcan's side, he had already been forced to admit his own helplessness. Perhaps Thea didknow a way. . . .

Fleetingly, he turned from the Vulcan. "C'mon, S'Parva," he muttered, following the two slaves out of the room. "Let's leave the witch doctor to her rituals!"

But Thea only smiled as she knelt once again by the Vulcan's side, taking his hand in her own. "Sometimes witch doctors can provide a cure which medical men would find impossible," she murmured to McCoy's retreating back. Once they were gone, she glanced at the Vulcan once again, studying his face openly.

Lined with pain, he was nonetheless a desirable—and useful—creature. "But you willlive," she whispered to herself. "I cannot permit you to die, for no one else can do what you must do once we reach the palace." She waited for only a moment longer, then turned her full attention on the Vulcan as she brought her hand to his face, seeking the neural centers into the mind.

For a moment, there was rejection, but she swept it aside with a single thought.

"You belong to us now, Spock," she intoned in the ancient ritual. "You belong to me. . . ."

Spock's mind opened to ponder blackness. At the end of what appeared to be a long corridor, a single light shone through. But gradually, the light split into two distinctive halves. One was pale … distant; the other held an immediacy which could not be ignored. He moved toward it, feeling heavy and surreal, weighted down by some forgotten burden which continued to burn its way through him.

As he came closer to the second light, he saw that it had a name, an identity. Thea.

His mind fought; she must not know, must not see the plan in his thoughts. She must not see that his charade was nothing more than a charade within a charade.

With an impossible effort, he tore himself free of the link, black eyes opening to study the Romulan woman leaning over him. For a moment, he wondered if he had already slipped into Death, if this was some fleeting illusion left over from life. For another instant, he wondered if the field-density between the two universes had already closed; and he himself was quite mad.

Thea.

He tried to speak, but the word hung suspended in his throat until he understood precisely what was happening. She had come—uninvited—into his mind, had sought out the last remaining ember of life, and had artificially sustained that spark with her own strength, wrestling him back from the eager arms of death. There had been no time for her to travel beyond superficial layers of consciousness, the Vulcan realized, allowing his mind to relax. His eyes closed, safe in the knowledge that his plan was still known only to himself. Perhaps she'd bought a few more hours of time. . . .

But he soon became aware of the gentle hand which caressed his forehead, smoothing damp hair back from his face. He tried to pull away from the enticing touch, but she grasped his hand in midair, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"Without my assistance, you will die, Spock," she informed him, her voice coming as if from a great distance.

He wrestled away from the words … but found himself too physically weak to move. She had broken his resistance, he realized with a flare of anger, had soothed the logical portion of his mind into something bordering dangerously on acceptance … even desire. He remained taut and unyielding. "You do not understand, Thea," he replied, voice escaping as little more than a whisper. "Our minds … are not … not enough alike. . . . No bond …" His head moved restlessly on the pillow as he struggled to form coherent syllables. "Cannot establish a link … not enough time. . . ." He drifted into silence, darkness moving closer. Still, he could feel the strand of her mind brushing against his own, refusing to deliver him into unconsciousness.

"At last, you haveunderestimated me, brave Captain," Thea replied, her hand drifting down to soothe the tight muscles in the Vulcan's back. "But no matter. A temporary link alreadyexists; even you must admit to feeling something. . . ." She paused, then gently turned his face toward hers. "Look at me and tell me to go; and I will follow your orders."

The Vulcan's eyes clenched tightly shut, and he realized with a certain horror that she was right. He had been a fool not to recognize her seductive nature before. In the madness of pon farr, he didwant her. But in a last attempt to serve logic, he shook his head violently, trying to sever the link without success.

"I … I cannot, Thea! It is a decision to be made for life … and I cannot stay with you!" He felt the shame and despair building in his throat, drove it away with an effort which hurt more than he would have thought possible. She was Romulan. She was the enemy.

… She was the only logical alternative.

"Sshhh," she replied, soothing the damp forehead once again. "In the Empire no one speaks of forever. There is only now… and the link we share is temporary. But for as long as you remain here, your mind is twin to my own. Come," she murmured, slipping her arms around his back and drawing him to her with remarkable strength. "As a creature sworn to the ways of Surak, you must realize that your own death would be illogical. It would accomplish nothing—other than, perhaps, to redeem your precious dignity." But despite the biting truth, there was no malice in her voice.

"I admire you for your conviction, Spock," she whispered, her lips tracing a line down the Vulcan's neck despite his continued resistance. "And now you must learn to admire yourself." She paused as some of the resistance slowly ebbed away. Eventually, she knew he would recognize her for who she was—a woman of his past, an enemy who had promised to make a place for him years ago. "We have met before," she added, trying to soften the psychic cries which slammed against her own mind. They faded slowly, quietly … until she knew there was no more hesitation left. "In another time and place, perhaps we would have chosen this freely. . . ."

Painfully, the Vulcan opened his eyes, staring through the red haze of fever to study the face which was poised less than an inch from his own. For a moment, he could almost believe her. And he knew now that he didfind her compelling, mentally stimulating … physically intriguing. And yet, logic dictated that those feelings were present simply because of his own shameful condition. He took a deep breath, letting the pain take him.

"I do not … do not know you," he lied to himself.

"Then you will," Thea promised. "And perhaps one day you may be able to forgive me for saving your life in this manner." Her words drifted away as she leaned down to kiss the parched lips, placing her hand once again on the side of his face. As the link deepened, however, she could no longer hold herself in the role of savior. She succumbed to hisneeds, histhoughts, hisdesires. "I have almost forgiven you for the incident with the cloaking device," she whispered. "Perhaps you can be as generous someday."

Unable to deny the raging inferno in body and mind, Spock slumped weakly into enemy arms. If he was to live, he told himself, this may be his sole alternative. But … even if he could forgive Thea, he did not know if he could ever forgive himselffor the imperative of pon farrwhich left no choice but to respond.

Clenching his mind tightly, he turned to the time phantom, trying not to let the salty fever-tears slip free.

Chapter Twenty-one

THE OVERVIEW OF the palace was no less spectacular than the Vulcan had expected; and though he found himself still anxious and nervous in Thea's presence, he knew that she was the sole reason he had survived. As the T'Favaroncircled low over the palace, he glanced down at the high stone walls and glowing force fields; inside the gates, row upon row of Romulan soldiers stood at attention, preparing to herald their Praetor's return.

As the T'Favaronfinally entered the landing pattern, Spock surveyed the various entrances to the huge quadrangle, mentally choreographing every possible escape. But even with the electrified iron bars which covered all doors leading into the palace itself, he suspected his main problem would be in finding his way to the outside at all. The palace was a maze of corridors, designed to be impassable by anyone who hadn't spent a lifetime learning the routes, secret passages and dead ends. But nonetheless, as he glanced at Thea, he realized he had one distinct advantage. Through the tenuous link with the Romulan, he could discern certain facts—among them what route she would take herself in the event she ever found it necessary to flee the palace walls.

As the ship touched down, engines purring to silence, Sarela rose from the command chair, exchanging glances with Thea before rising from the console. "Commander Tavor signals that the armies await inspection, my Lady," she said presently, "and that all is well within the palace."

Thea nodded, then turned to inspect the ceremonial robes which the Vulcan now wore. Her head tilted curiously as she stared into the dark, faceless entity behind the veils.

"An impressive sight, Spock," she said nonchalantly, feeling the now-constant resistance to the link as he rose to his feet and accompanied her to the surface doors. McCoy, S'Parva, and the rest of the slaves and advisers followed close behind.

Not surprised by the Vulcan's continuing silence, Thea smiled. "Since the Praetor acquires many new slaves, your being seen with Sarela and myself will not appear unusual to the soldiers. Should anyone question you, simply state that we are newly captured possessions." She paused, tone sobering. "Walk quickly through the soldiers, acknowledge no one other than the army's officers. Once we are safely inside the palace, Tavor will see to your safety personally."

"Tavor?" the Vulcan questioned, remembering the name.

"The head of the army," Thea explained. "He knows my plans well—and he will know who you really are. We contacted him from the Ravonlong before we came aboard your starship; and he has agreed to protect you from men such as Tazol." She shook her head gently. "But do not permit yourself to believe he will follow your orders over mine simply because you wear the robes. The army follows hiscommands; and should you be foolish enough to attempt to wield the power of your attire, you will not live long enough to bid farewell to your two friends."

The Vulcan straightened, muscles taut. "If I am injured," he stated logically, "your plans are ruined. And since it is obvious in your mind that you have no intention of ever releasing me or these two officers, I see no logical reason to proceed."

But a light came to Thea's eyes as she continued to study the hardened figure before her. "There isone thing which will hold your tongue forever in place if necessary," she reminded the Vulcan. "Your own blood still surges with hopes of accomplishing the impossible. You cannot deny that your mind houses some plan to defeat me. Your heritage and your honor will keep you alive long enough to do what must be done—for you cannot deny that you have stolen part of the truth from my own mind."

"Now wait a minute!" McCoy interrupted, taking a step forward. "I thought you said we were going to be released once this harebrained scheme of yours was finished!"

Turning to meet the accusing eyes, Thea inclined her head in acknowledgment. "And you trusted the word of a Romulan?" she asked pointedly. "Surely you realize that I cannot permit you to take proof of my true identity back to your Alliance. Even if peace results from this, there will always be those among my people who will not willingly abide by it. And while that may be true in anycase, I must know that I have the freedom to move among the people of the Empire without my identity being discovered."

McCoy's face reddened with anger. "Then what's the point?" he demanded. "If you come charging into the Alliance, kidnap two starship officers and demandto make peace—but still hold us hostage for the rest of our lives—what makes you think anyone's going to believe your promises? The Alliance won't sign a treaty as long as you're holding us here against our will!"

"Perhaps not," Thea acknowledged, "but that is a chance I must take. If it becomes necessary to barter flesh with your Alliance, your presence will be a useful wedge. And even your officials will understand that returning the three of you would be a risk which the Praetor cannot take. The Alliance will make peace for the galaxy, Doctor. Three starship crewmembers will be considered a price well-paid."

McCoy remained silent, too stunned to reply. He forced himself to remember that Spock had a plan, forced himself to remember there was something more important to fight for. If the Vulcan was successful in re-creating that other timeline, it would all be rendered academic. And the tapes the Vulcan had stolen from the Ravonhad proven it possible. But as he stood there studying the robed and hooded figure, he couldn't help wondering what had really happened between Spock and Thea … if the Vulcan had made some unspoken bargain with the devil.

Once Spock and his party were ushered to separate quarters, Thea made her way down the long maze of corridors which would lead to Tavor's private office. Gargoyle eyes stared down with hollow smiles from the high stone ceiling, and thin streams of smoke poured from the nostrils of dragon-headed statues which lined the private corridor.

As she came to General Tavor's door, she took a deep breath, then quickly entered, using the passkey attached to her belt. Once inside the room, she found the handsome young man lounging comfortably in a plush chair behind the carved wood desk. Ornate tapestries hung from ceiling to floor, and the thick maroon carpet sank pleasantly beneath Thea's feet as she crossed the room. In one corner of the room, a divan made of overstuffed black velvet sat before a gently burning fireplace. She looked away.

"Tavor," Thea said, inclining her head gently and taking a moment to appreciate the heavy musculature of her general. "The journey was tedious; and I am grateful to be home in the palace again." She smiled, going to the desk and pouring a glass of vintage ale. As she looked at Tavor, her eyes grew lighter. "I have missed you, my old friend," she murmured. "But … tell me … what has happened to T'Rouln?"

Leaning back in the chair, Tavor did not return the Praetor's smile. Instead, he propped booted feet on the corner of the desk, then reached up to unfasten the frog-closure of the thick brown cape. It fell to the floor unnoticed as the deep brown eyes went dark.

"Governor T'Rouln was once a friend, my Lady," Tavor replied, a hint of regret hiding behind the efficient tone. "We played together as children." He paused. "Yet the man who attempted to storm the palace gates bore no resemblance to the Warrior I once knew."

Taking a sip of the blue ale, Thea slid into a nearby chair, curling one leg underneath the other. "I regret his death, Tavor," she murmured, staring absently at the light reflecting from the general's shoulder-length black hair. "Yet … it seems that he was indeed … mad?"

Tavor nodded gently. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But there have been other incidents as well." He paused, expression shifting to one of suspicion. "As of this afternoon, I received word of several similar incidents throughout the Empire. On Kalora Six, riots broke out when Governor S'Limou single-handedly authorized the release of several political prisoners." His tone darkened. "As with T'Rouln, there was no explanation for this unauthorized action." A sigh parted thin Romulan lips. "There are others, my friend … too numerous to mention."

Thea set the ale aside; Tavor so rarely expressed emotion, yet the weariness seemed to emanate from the powerful frame and disciplined mind. "What else?" she asked, feeling a sudden chill slide up her back as she remembered something she'd sensed in Spock's mind during the initial link.

Insanity … two weeks to build a universe … or see one die. . . .

At first she'd tried to pass it off as another symptom of the pon farr—theVulcan's owninsanity, his own deadline. But as she recalled the transmission which had been intercepted from the ShiKahrseveral days before, her eyes widened. Her own words to Sarela came back to her. I had the impression that their vessel was somehow… lured into the Canusian system under false pretense. Odd…

She held back the sudden fear which came with the realization of the coincidence. "You said there were other incidents, Tavor," she prompted.

"Indeed," the general replied. "I was … forced to kill four of my own soldiers this afternoon, my Lady," he said very quietly. "While I was performing the routine inspection of the troups in preparation for your return, one man attempted to assassinate my chief lieutenant. A fight broke out … and four men were left dead." He shook his head. "According to our medical advisers, autopsy showed symptoms of massive disruptions in the cerebral cortex—as if the brain of each man had been somehow … shorted out." He hesitated for a moment. "And while I have not yet received medical information on Governor T'Rouln, I suspect the findings will be the same."

Thea rose from her chair, heading automatically toward the door. But before leaving, the turned to face Tavor once again, her eyes softening. "I shall question the Vulcan further," she explained. "Perhaps he knows something of value."

But Tavor merely stared at the Praetor as he rose and went to stand close at her side. "He … intrigues you, doesn't he, Thea?" he asked.

For a long moment, the woman did not respond. "He is a tool, my old friend," she said at last, finding herself unable to meet the questioning dark eyes.

"But he doesstir your blood," Tavor surmised without accusation.

Biting the inside of her lip, Thea reached out, touching the young man gently on the arm. At last, she looked up, then quickly glanced away. "Yes," she whispered, wondering why she should feel so utterly guilty because of that confession. "And for that I amsorry." She paused, wrestling with unfamiliar feelings. "If I once believed I could divorce myself from his … hold on me … I was a fool, Tavor." She looked up once again, then reached out to caress the expectant features. But as the general turned away, her hand fell slowly back to her side.

"I will wait, my Lady," he murmured. "And I will protect your chosen companion with the same fervor I have reserved for you."

For a moment, Thea merely stared at the man's back, then reached out once again, turning him to face her. At one time, she had respected Tavor as a cunning Warrior. At another time, she had loved him. But as she opened her mouth to respond, she found nothing to say, nothing to eradicate the sudden pain which rose in her own mind. Very gently, she ran one hand down the length of the general's neck.

"If it will make this any easier for either of us, my friend," she said softly, "you may rest assured that the Vulcan's feelings for me do not exist as you may imagine them. And … as with any living creature, I do not expect I shall be able to dwell long within a void of aloneness." She felt her face darken with a combination of shame and regret. "I … would be honored … to know that you will wait."

Tavor took a deep breath, then nodded. "Time grows short, my Lady," he said, his tone returning to that of the professional adviser. "The remaining governors will soon be arriving at the palace gates."

With a tender smile, Thea nodded … and forced herself to turn away from the dark eyes which wanted her.

Once inside the Praetor's lavish living quarters, Spock found himself contemplating the evening ahead. He glanced at the ornate clock: less than four hours until the Tribunal. But as his eyes scanned the room, he permitted himself a moment to relax. In many ways, Thea's private sector of the palace was much the same as the House of Sarek.

Black velvet curtains completely covered one wall; and then opened, the Vulcan discovered a tremendous plate glass window which overlooked a small pond. On the horizon, the blue sun of Romulus was setting, casting long shadows across the room. Against one wall, an elaborate desk made of solid silver faced into the spacious living area; an overstuffed sofa of blue velvet rested in the center of the room; and various marble statues representing the Ancient Ones of Romulus were stationed like sentinels by the carved wooden doors. Through another exit, closer to the back of the living area, was the bedroom.

But as he sat on the sofa, considering his own predicament and pondering the fact that less than eight days remained, he knew instinctively that he was alone within himself. S'Parva and McCoy had been quickly ushered to separate quarters—through a long maze of corridors and passageways which would be impossible to retrace; and Thea had made it clear that they would not be reunited until after the Tribunal meeting.

As if on cue, the two carved doors which lead into the corridor swung open, and Thea stepped quickly into the room. Dressed now in casual Romulan attire, her face seemed brighter, and even Spock could not deny the fact that she was indeed compelling.

He turned away from the thought, taking a step closer as he attempted to dismiss the uneasiness which had become his constant companion.

With a nod of her head, Thea moved to stand directly in front of the Vulcan, surveying the soft brown tunic he now wore. The robes were draped neatly over the chair at the desk, and she glanced at the black reminders of responsibility only briefly.

"Tonight we shall alter the course of two entire civilizations, Spock," she stated almost to herself. She continued observing him in silence for a moment. "I regret that it was necessary to deceive you into this scheme," she continued at last. "But … since you must realize that escape from the palace is impossible, can you not acknowledge that there areother alternatives?" She paused, then went to sit on the end of the tufted sofa. "Stay with me," she said as casually as if asking nothing more important than the time of day. "After tonight—with the governors acknowledging you as Praetor—there will be nothing we cannot do."

Spock's eyes closed; and despite the personal approach, he nonetheless wondered if she was attempting to bait him. "You know that I cannot stay, Thea," he stated. But he noticed that he'd automatically gone to sit by her side. "What we both areforbids me to make any other decision—and you have already stated that forevers are not discussed in this Empire."

Biting her lower lip, Thea laughed gently … almost sarcastically. "Then we are still nothing more than enemies," she deduced. "Nothing more than two opposing factions, each sworn to our separate duty. Is that all?" But she shook her head. "No, don't answer that. Neither of us needs to hear what is already obvious, what is written in your eyes." She hesitated for a moment, her tone becoming more professional as she spoke again. "I know that you are not foolish, Spock. And I would be deluding myself to believe that you are not aware of what has happened in this universe." She glanced away, her eyes distant and unreadable.

The Vulcan remained silent, then raised one brow. "I am aware of the time displacement," he confessed.

Thea nodded to herself. "I saw your plans in your mind while you slept, Spock," she informed him, steeling herself. "But suppose you should fail in this unspoken plan to steal a ship and attempt to correct the damage? Are you aware that your success in that undertaking would result in your own destruction?"

"I am aware of the consequences," Spock stated levelly. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to learn that she'd second-guessed him once again.

"Are you?" Thea countered, suddenly angry. "Do you really understand? If you are successful in going back in time to prevent my operatives from altering the time-flow, you will be killing yourself! You are as much a part of thisuniverse nowas your alternate self is a part of the other. You cannot go back in time, destroy my operatives, and hope to simply step back into your alternate life! For if the time-flow is corrected—if First History is reinstated—the person you are in Second History will vanish!"

The Vulcan nodded once more. "I am prepared to accept that possibility." But it was a thought which had plagued him from the beginning. "However," he added, "should I choose my life as I know it nowover what I know to be correct, I am no less than a murderer. If I choose to stay with you and make no attempt to correct the damage which has been done, I condemn an entire universe to extinction."

Thea sighed deeply, leaning back on the sofa and resting her head against the Vulcan's unresponsive arm. "You will die," she stated simply, stressing each syllable in an effort to make herself believe it. "The moment you step back into time and stop the operatives from destroying the roots of the Federation, you will no longer exist. History will revert to what it was before—with you and I on opposite sides of a galaxy."

The Vulcan was silent for a long moment. "And if I proceed with your plan to present the Tenets of Discipline to the governors tonight, only to later go back in time and intervene in your operatives' mission, the Tenets will have limited effects at best. Had your advisers been more thorough in their investigation of the long-term effects of time alteration, they would have understood that the changes your operatives have caused cannot withstand the strain of the universe itself. Already, the minds of those born in Second History are seeking to return to their natural environment. Eventually, if something is not done to correct the damage, we will alldie, Thea." He paused thoughtfully. "The universe is not molecularly stable to the point of being able to tolerate the type of displacement which has resulted from your scheme to conquer the galaxy."