Текст книги "Killing Time "
Автор книги: Della Hise
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"My father'sscheme," Thea corrected, her tone tired and weary. She looked closely at the Vulcan, wondering if it was just another plot. But when she remembered what Tavor had said moments before, she felt the anxiety build in her stomach. "If what you are saying is true," she mused, "then you are dead either way." She paused, feeling the sting of truth in her own statement.
"There are alternatives to death," Spock pointed out, sensing her weariness. "And while I do not know what would occur should you choose that alternative, I assure you that it does exist."
Leaning forward on the couch, Thea allowed her eyes to meet the Vulcan's. "What is your alternative, Spock?" she wondered, already understanding that there was little she would not do to keep him alive, to keep him by her side.
"Join me," he returned without hesitation. "Since you are a product of First History, logic dictates that you can exist freely in either environment."
Turning away, the woman stood, took a few steps, then stopped. "Join you?" she repeated with a bitter laugh. "After everything I have done to bring you here, you ask me to join you in a plan which would mean your extinction?"
"You already know that the structure of this Second History universe cannot endure," the Vulcan countered, rising to stand directly behind the Praetor. "And even if you do not join me, it shall not matter within a few more days." He paused. "Ask your scientific advisers. Tell them to seek hypotheses from your computers. You will find that there are less than eight days remaining in which to correct this situation. If we do not act before then, it will be too late, Thea. The time-wound will heal; and we will all become trapped in a madness for which there is no cure."
"No!" Thea protested, whirling angrily about. "That is impossible!" But she knew it wasn't. "The people of Second History have no other memories! The people they are nowis all they know!" She clenched her eyes tightly shut.
"Hardly," the Vulcan stated calmly, grasping her by the shoulder and turning her to face him. "The science of the mind is a science not easily understood. It seems that thoughts and memories transcend even the dimensions between time or universes. And in your Empire and my Alliance, the minds of those from Second History will fold in on themselves. The mind will ultimately seek to re-create its native environment—even if the only manner to accomplish that would be permanent disassociation with thisreality. Everything will stop, Thea—all that you know." He made no effort to conceal the extent of his knowledge now; anything she wanted to know, Thea could doubtlessly attain through the link.
"And what do I profit by joining you?" Thea wondered. "Even if I believed you—what would Igain by helping you go back in time?"
The Vulcan turned away, slipping into her mind as if to somehow soothe the psychic pain which emanated from the Romulan. "I have nothing to offer," he replied, feeling an illogical sting of sorrow in that statement. "If I could …"
For a long time, Thea did not move. Then, carefully, she reached out and rested one hand on the Vulcan's shoulder. "There is one thing which you can still offer to me," she said gently. "I believe you know what that is."
Looking into the dark eyes, the Vulcan shook his head. "How can I stay with you if I no longer exist?" he asked, easily reading the thought. "If I am successful in stopping the operatives, I cannot even offer myself as hostage."
"Then stay with me there!" Thea countered, damning herself for his magnetism. "Stay with me on this past Earth—this planet which is reputed to be so beautiful in the spring! I have nothing to return to here," she added. "If the universe is righted once again, I am no better off than before. The Empire will be the same as it was in First History. My people will continue to die within the confines of the Neutral Zone while your Federation flourishes!"
With a gentle softening of the eyes, the Vulcan shook his head. "And yet you know that you cannot abandon them, Thea," he pointed out. "If you assist me, when you return to First History, you alone will have memories of what has transpired in both realities."
"Stop it!" Thea protested, unwilling to hear the rest. "You cannot say that I will be the only one to remember—even if I should join you! When youreturn to First History—"
"I will no longer exist," the Vulcan said gently. "You have stated that yourself, and know it to be true."
Thea bit down hard on her lip, trying to concentrate on theories which suddenly seemed far too complex for any mind to conceive. "Then … if you are successful in intercepting my operatives, you have no intention of even attempting to return here … to this point in time," she murmured almost to herself.
"I cannotreturn, Thea," Spock replied. "For once the timeline is corrected, the Spock of Second History will no longer exist."
Forcing herself to consider the unspeakable possibility, Thea reached out to grasp both the Vulcan's hands in her own. "Then what will become of you?" she asked, damning the answer before it came.
"If I am successful," the Vulcan replied, making no effort to withdraw his hands from hers, "it will not matter. The life I seek—the life which must be for my alternate self in First History—will automatically be re-created. Whatever happens to the person I am nowis irrelevant—for he is nothing more than a specter."
"It is not irrelevant!" Thea argued. "How can you—a Vulcan—do this? How can you plan to go into Earth's past, knowing that you are committing suicide as a result?"
"It is not only my own life, Thea," Spock reasoned, "but the lives of billions of others as well. If I am successful, anyone who accompanies me into Earth's past will not be able to return to the future—except you, if you choose to join me. As I have stated, you are a product of First History—therefore immune to the paradoxes of time travel. However, you must consider those who are notimmune—the lives which would be lost to madness in the Empire as well as the Alliance." He shook his head very gently. "I cannot permit my personal wishes to stand in the way of what mustbe … and I do not believe you can either."
Turning away, the Vulcan was silent for a long moment. "There is a possibility that I will simply vanish the moment the operatives' mission is foiled," he continued presently, attempting to ignore the horror he read in Thea's eyes. It would be too easy to allow her to sway him, he realized … to easy to slip into some "logical" madness which dictated that she was correct.
"And if you're wrong?" Thea asked at last. Not really wanting an answer, she waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal, and turned away. But after a moment, she faced the Vulcan once more, a sense of hopelessness permeating her voice as she spoke. "Can you not accept that, this time, you have lost to me, Spock?"
"Defeat comes only when there are no further alternatives, Thea," the Vulcan replied. "And—this time—there are still choices." He held her gaze steadily. "Why must it be a contest?" he asked, struggling to keep emotion at bay and logic in the foreground. "If you truly seek peace, can we not work together?"
"If working together means that I gain your death as a by-product, you must already be mad to think I would accept!" she snapped. "And surely you realize that I have chosen you for reasons other than to masquerade as the Praetor!" She walked away, going to stand at the edge of the huge silver desk. Angrily, she slammed one hand down across the flat surface, eyes narrowing dangerously. "There is no man in this Empire for whom I would risk the things I have risked on your behalf, Spock," she continued. "You alone can stand at my side as equal." She forced herself to look at him, to hold the cold black eyes. "Will you have me say that to you outright? Will you force me to abandon Romulan pride and tell you that I have chosen you for myselfas well as for my mission? If so, then I say it to you now—without shame and without pride." She felt the sting of alien tears, but blinked them back before they could fall. "I needyou. The Empire needs you. . . . What more can there be?"
"James Kirk," the Vulcan murmured without hesitation. "And all the others like him who would never be content with the life your time alteration has thrust upon them." He wrestled with the human blood which had stirred to life in his veins. "I admire you as a leader; I respect you as a Romulan." But without giving her a chance to respond to what might have appeared a weakening of his position, he continued. "However, I would hardly be able to respect my decision should I agree to stay with you here—now—in this place and time. You must understand that, if my link with James Kirk has transcended even the gulf of space and time, my first responsibility is—and apparently always has been—to him and to the Enterprise." It was just a word, just a collection of consonants and vowels … yet it held inexplicable meaning.
"If we were both Romulan," he continued, exploring his own feelings cautiously, "I would be … honored … to accept what you offer. But we are not even of the same universe, you and I." He shook his head as the unbidden sadness stabbed a little deeper, as regret slowly chipped away at the Vulcan armor. "We do not belong together, Thea—not here, not in that other universe. You mustaccept that," he persisted, attempting to be gentle with words which came with difficulty. "We are of two separate realities … and always will be."
Looking up into the dark eyes, Thea did not respond. Whatever she did or did not do, she would lose him. Whether he simply faded out of existence or went mad, there would be no future together. She was, she realized, looking into the eyes of a phantom created by an old man's greed for galactic dominion. Her father had been a fool … and once again had bequeathed her the sorrow. She turned toward the double doors.
"I must speak with my advisers," she stated, her voice suddenly cold and clipped as she accepted the fact that she could not hope to keep him.
Spock shook his head gently as he moved up behind the Romulan and touched one arm tentatively. "If you help me, Thea, you will be able to take the knowledge you have gained in Second History and apply it once the timeline is corrected. We canmake peace, but not here." He looked over her shoulder, then allowed one cheek to rest on the top of her head. With the link still open between them, her loss was difficult to ignore; and regardless of the professional distance between them, he could not help but feel … something. Less than Vulcan, less than human, he thought. Hovering somewhere in limbo between the two. And if he were to die, a moment of tenderness was a luxury he could afford.
"Once the timeline is righted," he continued, "it is likely that the Spock who doesexist in First History will maintain certain memories of thisreality, too. Second History has happened—it ishappening—and the evidence points to the fact that the higher consciousness cannot forget anything which has happened to it." He paused, absently running one hand down the length of her arm. "And if my alternate self doesremember, Thea, you can go to him. If he does not, makehim remember. You will have knowledge of both Histories, as well as the telepathic skills. And you must use those tools to form peace between our two peoples in a universe where it can endure."
Trembling, Thea nodded almost imperceptibly, then moved away until the Vulcan's hand fell to his side. "What guarantee do I have?" she asked at last. "What promise can a phantom make which will withstand the distance between universes?"
Spock considered that. "You have my word," he promised at last. "And his. Since the other Spock is a reflection of myself, he cannot completely turn away from you. He will listen to your views, and will even help you present them to the Alliance as it will exist in First History. Make him remember, Thea," he repeated fervently. "It is the only alternative either of us have."
Turning, she looked into the Vulcan's eyes. "You are asking me to take you on a journey through time, destroy the Empire's achievements—questionable though they may be—and see a universe die as a result. And yet, despite this madness, I cannot find it in myself to deny you that opportunity."
Spock started to respond, but she waved his words aside with a quick gesture, bringing one hand to the firm chest until she could feel the gentle thrum of the Vulcan heart. "I do not wish to lose you," she confessed, "but neither do I wish to keep you here if you could never give yourself to me without mourning what you have lost in a universe which you have never seen." She turned away, feeling the weight of responsibility settle once again on her shoulders.
"If my advisers can show me any evidence to support your claims, perhaps I will consider helping you. If not …" Her voice trailed off. "If not, then you will be free to return to the ShiKahr.You are more easily replaced than you might imagine, Spock," she continued. She heard the sting in her words, yet knew she had to put the walls back in place. She had to become the Praetor again … if for no longer than to leave the room.
"But there is one thing, Spock," she continued as her hand settled on the doorknob, "one thing which you will never be able to forget. In any universe, in any time, there will come a day … a night spent alone, lonely … when you will regret losing the rapport between you and me."
The Vulcan's eyes closed painfully. "I am aware of that," he whispered, the words echoing strangely in his ears. "I do regret it now … and shall perhaps regret it in that other universe, too." He reached out, but touched only empty space as Thea pulled away.
She nodded curtly as the mask of authority dropped firmly into place. "So do I, Spock," she murmured, slipping into the hall. "So do I. . . ."
Alone, Thea walked down one long corridor, made a series of turns, and finally came to a dead end in the maze. In the deepest part of the cul-de-sac, an iron statue portraying a horned demon stood with outstretched arms. Hollow eyes glowed with the eternal fire of Romulus, and red smoke poured out between long black fangs. The demon had smiled forever … almost gloating.
Impulsively, Thea sank to the cold stone floor, absently touching the cloven hooves of the beast. Her eyes closed. As a child, she had often prayed to Bettatan'ru—had asked the demon-Lord for a suitable mate, a handsome Warrior to stand at her side, a man to be honored and to give honor in return. She looked into the black eyes now, and felt herself harden inside.
"Even you, my childhood friend," she mused. "Even you have abandoned us and returned to your steamy heaven." A laugh parted her lips as she glanced down the empty, darkened hall.
The beast's eyes glowed, but Thea laughed again.
"Have I angered you with sacrilege?" she wondered, a hint of bitterness creeping into her tone. "Or are you nothing more than deaf stone and metal?" She shook her head, thinking about the confrontation with the Vulcan. "It is logical that hewould choose the path he has chosen. But when even the Ancient Ones turn their backs, Bettatan'ru … I must question my loyalties. . . ." Her voice drifted away as she rose from the floor, feeling very much like the little girl in her father's palace who had often sneaked into the forbidden Corridor of the Beast.
"Strike me dead," she invited, staring into the hot red eyes of Romulan passion. "For if you do not … I shall assume that your powers are gone—that you are nothing more than the cheap iron from which my ancestors forged you!"
She waited.
The beast's eyes glowed.
And after a moment, Thea turned her back on the demon-Lord. She walked away, choosing the corridor which would lead to the central computer facility.
She did not look over her shoulder … and the beast did not intervene.
After what seemed like hours, the doors opened once again into the Praetor's living quarters. Thea entered slowly, now cloaked in the black robes of her title, but with the hood lowered to reveal her face.
"I have spoken with my advisers," she said, not meeting the Vulcan's expectant gaze. "And unfortunately they find themselves in agreement with your calculations." She paused, her tone more gentle when she spoke again. "There have been several … incidents in the Empire as well as in your Alliance," she murmured. "And … it seems that very little time remains." At last, she looked into the deep black eyes. "Why did you not tell me of this deadline sooner, Spock?"
The Vulcan studied her closely. "Would you have believed me?" he asked pointedly.
She glanced quickly away. "I have also been informed by my advisers that the Warriors are not likely to permit you to go into Earth's past should they learn of your plan. Already, Tazol has called a conference of the Tribal kings." She smiled fleetingly. "Not unusual in itself, but I do not believe it is difficult to guess his reason. He undoubtedly suspects—and I have no doubt that he will eventually gather enough of the Warriors together and attack the palace. There is no time to continue with the charade now."
The Vulcan lowered himself to the sofa as Thea took a chair across the room. For some reason, it still hurt to hear the bitterness in her voice … and to remember the gentleness he'd seen in her mind during the pon farr. But he drove the intruding thoughts away. "We must move quickly," he stated. "What decision have you reached?"
Thea rose, began to pace. "I have decided to help you," she said at last. "You, Sarela and I will take the T'Favaroninto Earth's past." She met his eyes steadily and came to stand before him. "Since my advisers have also informed me that your existence will be terminated once you intercept my operatives," she continued coldly, "I find myself quite eager to begin." She transformed the alien emotion of love into the familiar sensation of anger and responsibility—feelings she well knew how to handle. "I was a fool, Spock," she added. "A fool to believe I could be anything more than what I am—a Romulan. I accept that now, just as I accept that the Empire cannot permit itself to die as a result of my father's erroneous scheme."
"Are you abandoning the possibility of eventual peace between the Empire and the Alliance?" Spock asked. He tried to reach out with the link, but it suddenly seemed as distant and unreachable as that other universe.
"We are a warrior race," Thea recited, her eyes brighter than usual. "Perhaps it is not meant to be any other way in any universe, Spock."
The Vulcan noted that she didn't specifically answer the question. "There are others who must accompany us on the voyage, Thea," he said guardedly.
"James Kirk," Thea reasoned, tone bordering on contempt. She leaned closer. "When I met you before—in that other timeline—I knew then that he was something special to you." She paused for just a moment. "Can he be worth what you are doing, Spock? Can any one man be worth an entire universe?"
The Vulcan's response was direct and without hesitation. "Yes. And you must realize that my reasons go beyond James Kirk. We have already discussed them; your advisers have confirmed them. In less than one Standard week, madness will spread throughout your Empire, Thea. That is the one fact you cannot deny."
A smile came to the Praetor's lips. "Perhaps," she said casually. "But I shall always wonder if you lied—if James Kirk is even deeper in your blood than Vulcan!" She waved her hand in dismissal. "But no matter. We have no time to argue loyalties. If we are to attempt this mission of yours, we must be on our way at once—before Tazol and his men move against the palace." She hesitated for just a moment. "Your other friends—the doctor and the female Katellan—will remain in the company of my personal guards." She smiled once again. "I would be foolish to relinquish allmy high cards; and if you are wrong about this, your lies will purchase their death."
The Vulcan knew he needn't worry about being wrong; and was almost grateful that McCoy and S'Parva would be spared the transition. They would simply step back into their other lives in one fashion or another.
"Even if I am successful," he stated, "Tazol will still know what has happened. He is a product of First History, and will not be changed once that timeline resumes. If he resists your authority now, he will continue to do so in First History as well."
Thea shook her head in mild disbelief. "Can it matter to you?" she asked. "At any rate, do not concern yourself with what happens once we leave the palace—for neither you nor I shall ever return."
A questioning brow rose at the note of finality in her statement. "And where will you go, Thea?" he inquired. "I do not believe you will relinquish the title of Praetor so easily."
With a smile, the woman nodded. "In your universe, it is said that rank possesses certain advantages. The same is true here. Even if I cannot hope to withstand a full-scale attack on the palace, I canpurchase retaliatory power once I return from Earth's past. My closest advisers have already transported onto three of our Fleet ships, and are preparing to offer power and wealth to the officers in return for helping defeat Tazol and his men. Once clearly implicated in the plot to overthrow the Praetor, Tazol can be executed. In the meantime," she continued, "I have ordered the palace grounds evacuated. When the fool attacks in the name of tradition and honor, he will attack nothing more than empty walls."
"Very well," the Vulcan murmured. "However, if you wish to maintain any hope of establishing peace with the Alliance—the Federation," he corrected, "we must take James Kirk into Earth's past as well. Even though my alternate self will retain certain memories of what has transpired in Second History, his word alone will not be sufficient. You will need Kirk's influence as well."
"The influence of a man who is responsible for taking you from me?" Thea asked with a lifted brow. Her eyes darkened as she turned away. "Very well," she agreed at last, as her own logic intervened. "However, keep in mind that you will both be under my surveillance. And any attempt to do any more or less than what I direct will result not only in your own death, but his as well."
The Vulcan inclined his head in agreement. At the very least, he would be with the peculiar human to face the nonexistence which would surely result if they were successful in destroying the Romulan time-operatives.
"I am prepared, Thea," he stated, not permitting himself the luxury of considering it further. It would be too easy to alter his decision. Here, he had life, command of a starship … and the promise of a future with the Romulan Praetor. That other nebulous timeline offered only brief mind-glimpses of his alternate self … and he could not help but wonder how it would feel to become a person he had never known … and how Kirk would react when told that he too was to become a phantom of time.