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?"