"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.