The Price of the Phoenix

CHAPTER XV

Spock leaped aside with a slash of his bladed hand to Omne’s shoulder, and a smash of a boot at a knee to bring the big man down.

Omne fell heavily, rolled up.

Spock twisted in air to land on his feet and saw the Commander carrying James.

Keep the trust, Spock thought, wishing that he could reach her mind to think it to her. Please be able to keep the trust.

He smashed a boot into Omne’s kneecap and vaulted away.

He must adopt Kirk’s tactics. The giant had all the advantages—the weight, the size, the fury.

Only Spock’s fury matched the giant’s—and that the Vulcan in him must master.

As an officer he had fought to kill, and killed when duty demanded. But he had never fought in the lust to kill, not even fully as a Vulcan when any Vulcan would have—in the arena of challenge, against Kirk.

But he was fighting in the lust to kill now. For Kirk. For both of him.

And for both of him Spock must not kill.

He couldn’t risk it in a thousand years. He would never find Kirk. Never know whether the dead giant was alive and with Kirk… or coming after James…

The giant’s bull charge swerved with deceptive speed, anticipating the direction of Spock’s evasion. Massive hands smashed into the Vulcan’s neck and low over his heart, and a knee caught him in the groin.

He rolled end over end and crawled to get away, fighting blind agony, scuttling around a corner as the giant dived, sparing no thought for dignity.

There is no pain, he told himself, clamping down with all of the Vulcan training and all his will. It was not enough, but it would have to do.

He gained his feet.

His calculator could estimate the giant’s exact power now, and did so, unbidden, dispassionately reporting minute odds that Spock would leave the room alive, even if he fought to kill. And still more microscopic odds if he did not try to kill but tried to take the giant hulk apart until a forced mind-probe would rip out by the roots the knowledge of Kirk’s location.

It was against the deepest custom of privacy. The forced probe was forbidden. But it could be done, and would.

And Spock knew that his calculator was right. But it was also wrong.

He would win.

He had to win.

He slugged a fist into Omne’s stomach.