Sondra Marshak: The Price of the Phoenix

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.”