The Price of the Phoenix

CHAPTER XXIII

The Commander said, “Indeed.”

James was bending to kiss her, but she caught his face firmly between her hands, her paired fingers touching his temples and the tips of his upswept ears.

The customless kiss from between the stars had been right for the man who had been Captain Kirk.

But this was her innocent princeling, whatever the script, who would come to her on her own ground, where the way of the beginning prevailed, and he would come in her way.

She held him with her strength and touched him with the most ancient kind of mind-link, and not with the restraint of the Vulcan.

The Vulcan was still there with his restrained link. That would not do, not for much longer, but it would do for now, and it did not deter her. James caught his breath under the new touch, and she could even feel, through the resonance, Jim catching his. That did not deter her, either. There were precious few secrets around here today.

But she kept the touch light. There were still things which would be private.

But for this she would not wait.

It was more than a kiss, and he trembled under it, but she felt his own bedrock strength and it was sufficient to meet her.

She was not quite breathing, either.

There was not a breath in the room, not even from the Doctor.

And into that silence came—no sound, but a sudden sense of presence.

It raised hackles down her spine, and she turned to see the silent shimmer of a transporter forming the massive, behemoth outline which could only be one man out of a galaxy.

Omne.

It was not possible that he could be here, beyond all transporter range.

But she did not consider the impossibility.

She launched herself in a flat leap to close with him in the instant when he would still be helpless in the transporter beam. The Vulcan wore a phaser. He could stun her with Omne while she blocked Omne’s weapon. Spock would see the necessity.

She crashed into the great bulk with a body block and chop to the throat, while her other hand smashed down the gun arm.

Except that the corded arm barely moved—and for a long split instant she could feel the heat of Omne’s body, as if time had stopped. She knew that the Vulcan was drawing, James and Jim trying to move—

And in the same split instant Omne caught her with a roar and slammed her against the Vulcan, crashing them both to the floor.

She knew dimly through white pain that the slam had been hard enough to kill them both if they had been Human.

James was charging Omne.

“No, James!’ she shot through the link, and came up off the floor.

But it was already too late. He had launched a savage kick at Omne, possibly the only kind of blow the Human could give, which had a chance.

But Omne absorbed the sickening crunch of James’s feet and caught James out of the air.

Jim was flying from the couch, but a swipe of Omne’s other arm tossed Jim against her—not with such force.

The Vulcan was diving past her, propelled by murder.

Omne caught him with a knee in the ribs, which exploded in the link. Still his hands went for Omne’s throat, but a smash of the giant’s arm felled him to his knees, and a kick toppled him.

McCoy was there from somewhere, with less muscle, but with desperate courage.

Omne felled him with a cuff.

She was putting Jim aside and going in again, but he moved with her.

Then Omne said, “Cease!” and they saw that he had an arm locked around a struggling James from behind, and a phaser leveled at her. Not the revolver, which the giant still wore in his holster, but an advanced design of phaser. Impossible to tell whether it was set to stun or kill.

She kept going, knowing that the first moment of explosive action was all they had, all they would ever have.

Omne could transport out in the next moment with James.

But if they all kept coming-Jim was at her shoulder.

She went for the eyes, the nerve center under the great jaw—trying to be careful of the Human between.

Omne caught her with a backhand of the fist holding the phaser.

She had not dreamed of being hit with such power. She went down, fighting with every Vulcanoid skill for consciousness, trying to scissor her legs to cut Omne’s legs from under him.

But he was planted like a two-legged tree.

He caught Jim with a gentler swipe, brushing him off like a sand gnat, and dropping him almost solicitously on Spock as the Vulcan tried to rise. Spock rolled Kirk off and kept coming. Omne caught him with a boot to the jaw.

Then Omne stepped back a pace with the lightness of a dancer, and he had his arm locked around James’s throat in a chancery strangle, slowly subduing the Human who had still been aiming blows and kicks against the great body and legs. Omne put the phaser to James’s temple.

James’s consciousness faded to a pounding blackness, and the Commander rapped out again, ‘James, stop!’

And this time she was obeyed—possibly because he could do nothing else.

Nor could any of them. She or Spock might still have made a move, but a phaser stun effect at point-blank range might easily kill James—or Omne might break his neck.

It was not as if she or Spock could fight with a clear field. There were the Humans. The link and resonance reverberated with their pain, and it had to be admitted that there was a Vulcan and Romulan contribution too.

She tasted the bitterness of defeat, and it was not as strong as the metallic taste of panic.

Omne had not eased the strangle.

She came to her knees. “Stop! she said, and it had the tone of a plea.

“How do you ask?” Omne rumbled.

“I—beg,” she said.

She saw the wolf smile appear on Omne’s face. “I believe it is for yourself.”

“Yes,” she said proudly.

“And you, Spock?”

“Yes, Spock said.

Omne felt James sagging against him and finally eased the strangle. James wilted and would have dropped like a sack, but the giant held him.

“Murderer—you’ve killed him!” McCoy said, coming off the floor. “Let me—” His hands reached for James and his voice had almost the tone of hysteria. She was thinking with a trace of pity that the poor Human was entitled: only the link told her that James was not dead.

And then she saw the palmed spray-hypo going for Omne’s shoulder.

She didn’t let a flicker of reaction reach her face.

But Omne moved with that omniscient sense he seemed to have—or with the reflex of pulling James away—perhaps both, and he saw the hypo.

He chopped the phaser down on McCoy’s wrist, and the Doctor choked on a scream as the hypo clattered

Then the phaser was back at James’s ear, and he was stirring slowly.

Omne laughed.

“So even the good Doctor is full of surprises. I trust you appreciate mine.”

He looked fresh as a new-minted coin, shockingly alive, vital, magnetic, his presence filling the room, as if he had truly been reborn.

The Phoenix from the flames.

Black Omne.

He was truly the first, she thought, the first immortal—back from the other side of death.

Of course he would have to come to celebrate.

“We’ve been expecting you,” she said, coming to her feet, banishing pain.

He laughed again. “I hardly think so, my dear. But you should have. When will you learn that you will never know my capabilities until they are used against you?”

Spock was on his feet, but slow, the half-healed ribs gone again, the hands, the knees—the pain blinding in the link until he tuned it down. Jim was steadying the Vulcan, the Human less hurt himself this time, but reeling from the choking of James and from the cumulative shocks and injuries of the day, from the brute shock of Omne’s overwhelming presence. McCoy was sagging against a couch and nursing a wrist as if it were broken.

They were a sorry crew to face this mint-condition monster.

Of them all, only she had been remotely fit to fight after this day, and there was a point where plain brute muscle and heft told, and that incarnate, undying will which was Omne.

But her will was no less certain. Mind and will would have to serve now. Hers. Get him talking; keep him talking. Where was Mr. Scott with his intruder alert? Would he have sense enough to know that there could be only one intruder? Yes. And what would he do?

The Empire would pay high for a transporter of that range,” she said.

Omne dismissed it. “Let us not waste time talking of hardware, my dear. There is only one piece of hardware in the galaxy which has any real price, from this day forward—and I own that, as well.”

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. “True. It is a complete success. A triumph. Let us negotiate that price.”

He laughed the wolf laugh. “My dear, do not attempt flattery. I am not in need or it. I will boast of the process myself, if I wish.”

“And I will acknowledge, if I wish, that you took the very last chance, and won the final victory.”

She had to deliver the acknowledgement in the tone of a battering ram, but she saw it reach the black eyes.

“Yes,” Omne said simply. “I did.”

Jim drew up close beside her, but he did not touch the moment, nor did the Vulcan, and James stayed quiet, trying to still even his mind, not to joggle her elbow.

The confusion of links and resonance was a distraction, full of pain and James’s sub-voice thoughts, in which the only hopeful theme was: Scotty. But she would not have given up one gossamer thread of the link for all the princelings in the Empire; the link might have to lead her to hers.

“You are the first,” she said to Omne. “The Phoenix. The Fire-Dragon.”

“Yes,” he said, accepting the acknowledgement, and then he swept it away with a slight ironic smile. “You discount James?”

“James did not die.”

“No.” The great dark eyes brooded for a moment over the memory; they were more unfathomable than ever, layer upon layer of depth, like obsidian gone transparent. Was there something new in the eyes, now—as if death had burned something to great clarity? “You were almost right, Commander. Of all men I would not die—and of all men, I was the only one who would, but I was not beaten. I was the man who would die first—and did.”

“So,” she said slowly, “you found a recording of our discussion in the control room?”

“Certainly, my dear. All of the monitor screens record automatically. This whole day is safe on storage cubes.”

She felt Jim stir uncomfortably beside her.

Well, it could not be helped. “I trust I did not omit too many possibilities?” she said with a trace of challenge.

“Dozens,” Omne said. “Hundreds.”

She smiled fractionally. “You will doubtless fill me in.”

Omne smiled, as if indulging her, as if he knew all about what she was up to, and could afford the luxury. And beneath the smile she saw suddenly the savage hate which had exploded in the fight and not been dissipated. It was leashed now. Omne had not forgiven them their victory, or his death.

You are seeing only the test of the process against love,” Omne said. “Consider the tests against hate, evil, weakness, power-lust, Human frailties. Consider even the test against strength and decency. You have had advantages, you know. Jim and James are quite extraordinary men—and they had quite extraordinary help.” Omne looked at her, at Spock. “But picture two kings, emperors, presidents waking up on any one day to find—two of them. One could not count on our two originals’ nobility. Even they barely made it. But consider: what if such a pair did not even know which was the original? Each would have to fight for his rightful place. The other would be an imposter—who was certain that he was real. What if there were no Vulcan friend, no telepath who knew them to establish identity? And what if there were such a friend? Which would he choose—and how? How would one of them choose to leave him? Suppose even today, my dear, that you had not been here to offer another path to James?”

“The thought has occurred,” she said with effort.

“It is only one possibility,” Omne said. “There are countless permutations, combinations, surprises, elemental uses. Possession. Exploration of metaphysical problems. There is simple personal survival.”

“At a price,” she said grimly. “Doubtless also surprising.” Where was Mr. Scott? How long could she stall?

“Certainly,” Omne said. “I am full of surprises. Are you trying to conceal from me one of your own? For example, that it is long past time for the Captain’s Mr. Scott to have sounded intruder alert, if he detected my transporter? Therefore he is either trying to take silent action, in the hope of which you are stalling, or I have yet another capability which will come as a surprise to you.”

She shrugged microscopically, not betraying the sinking sense that Omne was ahead of them on all points. Did Scott even know? “If you have named my game,” she said, “it is still the only game in town. Although we might still arrange one or two other surprises. But you have come. You wanted to say to us: I live. You might thank us for that—at least, thank the Captain. We did not destroy you when we could. You owe a debt.”

Omne shook his head. “I am not responsible for missed opportunities or misguided nobility—or, especially, for rationalizations of elemental needs.” He turned to Jim. “One innocent life, Captain? Shall I tell you the real reason why you did not destroy the planet?”

Kirk nodded. “I named it. But tell me what you think.”

“Because it is immortality, Captain. You could not bear to close the door on the defeat of death. You will find that you have sold your soul for it—and the galaxy.”

Kirk straightened, and she saw that it was true—on some deepest level, true. She could feel it in James’s mind, too. Kirk’s head lifted. ? “It is immortality,” he said. “You could have been honored for it forever. But it is you who have sold your soul. Yes, I want the defeat of death.” He gestured toward the stars. “What else are we out here for? To learn, to know, to push back the limits, to—love. Who would see love die? No, I didn’t close the door. I would be willing to live with Pandora’s box—and Hope. But not with immortality as a weapon in your hands. I have not sold the galaxy. We will fight you.”

“You have tried that, Captain,” Omne said, indicating their defeat.

“We are not finished. Who are you that we should quit against you?”

“Omne,” the giant said simply.

Kirk nodded. “You are that—and we have not quit. You have lost today. You met love, and you couldn’t break it.”

“It will break you,” Omne said. “Captain, you wanted the process, and you did not want it for the galaxy, but for yourself.”

Kirk stood very still. She could feel the effort in his body. “I wanted it,” he said. “But I have lived without it before.”

He stood as if waiting for a blow to fall; she saw the hate flare again in the obsidian eyes and the great arm tighten across James’s chest.

James gasped and Kirk set his teeth, and for a moment she thought that the giant would break from the pose of studied calm and come to smash—which was perhaps what Kirk had intended.

It would break the deadlock. Get Omne out of his secure position with his hostage and his back against the wall, commanding the doors.

Of course. Scott might be outside, monitoring, only waiting for a chance. And if not—she was not out of it, and Kirk would not count himself out, or James, even the Vulcan with his broken ribs.

She set herself to move.

But the giant was master of himself. He smiled the wolf smile. “I am not to be drawn, Captain. I chose you for that very capacity. It is what made you a fit subject for the first test. But you have lived without immortality when it did not exist. Now it does exist, and you have tasted it.”

There was a long moment of silence. She could feel the weight of it in the link. Each of them had lived for a long time on the final frontier of death, and still dared to love. It had been necessary. It was the nature of the universe, and what man, what all intelligent life had had to live with, always. And it had always been unendurable, and endured.

But now it was not the nature of the universe.

She undertook to speak for all. “We would give anything for it—except what we are.”

“So say you all? ” Omne said, and his eyes were darkly impressed as he felt the weight of common assent like a solid unity among them. Even McCoy lifted his head and met the black eyes with a searing look of loathing and icy, bleak pride—he who fought death on his own ground and too often lost, and would fight again.

Omne nodded “So you will not, after all, quite sell soul, flag, fortune, and sacred honor?”

“We will not sell what makes love possible,” the Commander said.

“But that is the price of the Phoenix,” Omne said. He laughed then, darkly. “And you will pay. Today your lambs speak together. Your wolves will come to me one by one, in silence, as will the wolves of the galaxy. You will come when the strain of living with death and love and the knowledge of eternal life becomes too much. Commander, you have touching plans for taking James into the Romulan Empire. What will you do on the day when your gorgeous, delicate princeling fails to bow his stiff neck and is discovered? Or perhaps even is betrayed—it could be arranged, you know—and is thrown into the dungeons of the Empire?”

Yes, what? She asked herself, fighting down the feeling of sickness. But aloud she focused only on the detail. “We have spoken of a princeling only here. Are we to assume that you have been following that conversation, 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. You’ve been had. We’re pleased you accepted our invitation to crash the party.”

Omne laughed again. “It would be like inviting a Fire-Dragon to a tea party. I trust you have enjoyed the company. Captain, do you really suppose that I didn’t consider even that possibility? But it is not my temperament to skulk in my hole. And I took the precaution of speed-monitoring all your tapes, with spot checks of the bridge and other key areas. You have not had an opportunity to set anything up.”

“Come, Dragon—do you suppose that we didn’t consider that possibility? Kirk smiled savagely. “You have had ample opportunity to know of our capability with the mind-link. Mr. Spock and I set something up: you.”

It was the conclusion she had reached herself—the two of them when they were alone—and she flared murder at the Vulcan through the link, understanding now his preternatural quietness and his shielding even from James, which she had taken for mere restraint ‘Allies!’ she sent scaldingly.

Spock remained obdurately silent, even in the link.

‘ Trust him, them,’ James sent, but she could feel his hurt and anger too: had they set something up without him, without her, or were they—bluffing?

“Bluff, Captain,” Omne said, but his voice lacked a fraction of an edge of certainty.

Suddenly his arm moved to lock across James’s throat and his hand moved up to touch James’s face in the position of the Vulcan mind-touch. But Omne was not a telepath—

Then she felt the great, dark mind reaching into James’s mind, a sudden, black swiftness—and” with it elements of a more familiar mind, sunlit but with its own shadows of conflict and great power leashed to discipline: the Vulcan’s mind; Spock.

Then, even as she fought to shield James she understood: Spock had been linked to Omne when he died, and Spock also had shared the ultimate fear of death.

His—emanations—had also radiated, and been recorded, intermingled with Omne’s. Spock’s powers, his knowledge, his capabilities—Omne’s now. Omne’s. The danger—

The dark mind beat at her, at James’s mind, like great black wings, and she sheltered the Human and beat the preying blackness back, back—but its power was awesome.

Then it was gone as swiftly as it had come, and she knew that it had found no plot in James’s mind or in hers.

“Bluff, Captain,” Omne said again with certainty, dropping his hand to catch James more firmly as he sagged.

Kirk swayed, but he grated out, “That, also, we had to know.”

Omne’s eyes narrowed. In spite of the negative evidence of James’s mind, he was beginning to believe. Kirk’s certainty radiated in the room. Omne shrugged. “A perfectly logical extension of the capability. Minds locked in death. Fascinating. I would have told you in time. Perhaps even this time. It will mean that I will be able to anticipate your every move.”

Kirk nodded. “Unless we are able to—think outside the phalanx. We just did.”

Omne chuckled. I am almost tempted to let James go. It would be most entertaining to watch the four of you trying to think outside the phalanx—watch the Commander and James trying to build a life together, arguing about scripts and princelings, trying to remodel the Empire, and knowing always that my shadow stands over them; that they may find me around any corner, blocking any plan; that they must try to snatch happiness from the teeth of terror—and know that the blow may fall at any moment. You and Spock, also, knowing that, and knowing how well I know you. You are all worthy opponents.” Omne smiled the wolf smile and straightened, pulling James closer. “But because you are, I cannot permit myself the luxury. I must have an ultimate hostage against you. Captain, I regret that you do not seem to be hostage for the Commander. I believe that James is—even for you.”

“He is,” Kirk said, “but you will not have him.”

“Forgive me, but I do not see how you will stop me,” Omne said urbanely. “And I do not believe I will stay to see you try. I might kill someone. And you are all so noble and so vastly entertaining. If you will excuse me—”

“You reject amnesty?” Kirk said in the tone of command—and finality.

Omne laughed. “Of course. Does the wolf accept amnesty from the lambs?”

Kirk shook his head almost sadly. “No more than the—shepherds—can let the wolf prey.” He drew himself up and seemed suddenly to tower like a monument to justice. “Then—die, Omne.”

His hand nicked in a gesture to Spock. “Now, Mr. Scott,” the Vulcan said aloud and in the link. ‘Commander, get James away—’ But at the same moment Omne reached into James’s mind and with the Vulcan’s own power snapped the link to the preoccupied Vulcan before Spock could move to defend it. Spock’s and James’s agony flared in the last of the link—and then Omne reached for her link with James. She fought—

Suddenly there was a hum and she saw Omne’s phaser shimmer in a peculiar-looking transporter effect. Federation transporters couldn’t do that—could they? The transporter could have taken James’s head off.

But she didn’t question. She moved to get James away, even as he fought to free himself. But this time she had an instant to gain balance and she moved with the full training of a Romulan Commander, slashing her bladed hands into the nerve centers of the great bull shoulders and in a continuation of the same movement snatching James out of the momentarily weakened arm.

It left Jim Kirk facing Omne, and Omne still had the holstered six-shooter.

She swung James behind her and started to move again.

But Kirk had torn open the great black robe and he wore another of the old guns—McCoy’s—holstered under it.

His hand found the gun with unerring precision and with the speed of thought, even as Omne went for his.

There was a roar, and even she with Romulan senses was not certain which gun had spoken, or whether both with one voice.

But there is no mistaking the impact of a large-calibre bullet at close range.

It blasted Omne back against the wall with an impact which shook it, while his gun clattered against the wall and fell.

And she saw Kirk on his feet, the Vulcan’s hands closing on his shoulders and going white.

But it was only a moment, and then they were both moving to Omne, while she scooped up the fallen gun with the hand which was not holding James—almost holding him up.

She did not trust the great bull vitality of the dark giant, even against that doom.

Incredibly the great tree-trunk legs were still holding Omne up against the wall, although there was a hole in his chest and a wide splatter of blue green blood behind him.

The black eyes blazed with unquenchable life, and with—astonishment.

McCoy moved in with his scanner, shook his head.

“This time you are away from your equipment,” Kirk said very quietly. “It is—final.”

Omne looked at them, at the faces one by one, as if to remember them forever. “The game of gunsmoke, Captain,” he rasped. “It is-fitting.”

Kirk nodded. I thought so.”

Omne turned to Spock. “Look in your mind, Vulcan, for what is unlocked by the word Omnedon.”

Spock tuned inward with an abstracted look. In a moment he said, “I shall mourn—Omnedon.”

Omne smiled the wolf smile against a grimace of agony. “Never mourn Black Omne.

“I shall,” Kirk said. “The mind. The giant. Not the wolf, but the man who defeated death.”

Omne laughed, breathlessly, without sound. “Remember that. Quickly, now, how did you transport the phaser?”

“An antibiologic circuit,” Spock said. “An adaptation of—pest control. We had to assume that you would be armed and might hold one of us. The circuit was reversed to take metal and leave flesh—not to take a hand off, or an ear.”

Omne nodded as if he understood completely, as perhaps he did, with what he knew from Spock’s mind. “Fascinating. It would require fine tuning. Time. One could calculate the interval.” He nodded again with a gesture oddly like a Vulcan with curiosity satisfied. The pain caught him. “Why didn’t you shoot me in the first moment?”

“Nobility,” the Commander said. “I cannot tell you how tired I am of nobility.”

James caught the blaze in her mind at the risk to him, and there was a flame in his mind, too, and the picture of her charging Omne’s phaser. He pulled himself to the bleak control of understanding. “Even Omne had to have his chance. Or it’s still—jungle.”

Omne laughed silently to her. “Nobility. My dear, I’m afraid you are stuck with it.” He looked at James.

“They will not be stuck with looking over their shoulders for you” Kirk said. “Nor will the galaxy. We could not have that.”

“You see, noble Captain,” Omne breathed, “there was a price for which you would do murder.”

“Yes,” Kirk said. “But I did not.”

“No,” Omne said, as if it were loaded with more than agreement.

“He has defeated you, Omne,” the Vulcan said, “with more than muscle. He is the man you might have been—and for what you might have been, I could wish that the price had not been so high.”

Omne smiled. “You have much yet to learn about the man I might have been, and am—and about the price of the Phoenix.”

McCoy straightened with the scanner. I’m sorry,” he said in the manner of the doctor. “I can’t do anything for you. It is final.”

And indeed the light in the great black eyes seemed to be fading.

Omne laughed.

It was an undying echo of the great bull roar, and the smile on the dying face was the smile of the wolf.

The Commander felt a chill investigate her spine, and she drew James closer.

Omne caught his breath on the last note of the laugh.

“Is it?” he said.

Then his hand caught at some small device on his belt.

The obsidian eyes went opaque.

The great body began to topple like a tree.

Then it vanished in silence.