CHAPTER 22

Spock had observed the confrontation between Governor Tharrus and Proconsul Eragian with acute interest. After all, the unificationists’ collective fate hung in the ever-so-precarious balance.

Clearly Eragian—like Tharrus—had divined the Vulcan’s presence here, or he wouldn’t have argued for custody of the prisoners with such intensity. But the proconsul was likely to show them no more mercy than the governor intended.

Either way, the rebels seemed destined for execution. And Spock himself would become a tool in the dismemberment of the homeworld unification movement.

Of course, the entire situation had been turned on its ear when both sides drew their disruptors. In the words of the humans he’d served with, all bets were off.

Not that the chances of a successful escape were any more promising than before—even considering the fact that most of their guards had been drawn to the center of the courtyard, or the confusion that seemed likely to follow. The Vulcan estimated the odds of their succeeding at ten percent, and even that was stretching it.

But they weren’t likely to get a better opportunity.

Reaching back, the Vulcan targeted the nearest guard and slugged him across the face—manacles and all. As the Romulan crumpled, his disruptor fell out of his hand. Spock picked it up two-handed and fired in the dirt at Eragian’s feet—his intent not to injure but to incite.

Reacting just as he’d hoped, the proconsul fired back in the direction from which the disruptor blast had come. The Vulcan was on the move, however, and the counterattack struck only the stone wall that ringed the courtyard.

Discharging his weapon on the run—this time, with an accuracy born of years of Starfleet practice—Spock hit the part of the gallows from which the nooses were suspended. With a sound like water striking a white hot coal, the structure sizzled away into nothingness.

As the executioners scrambled for cover, the rebels found themselves unhampered by either noose or guard. Instinctively they turned to the Vulcan.

“Down!” he cried, his voice strong and clear in its urgency.

They did as they were told. Dropping to their knees, they avoided a disruptor blast from elsewhere in the courtyard.

Because by then, the seed he had planted by firing at the proconsul had taken root. Seeing that Eragian’s bodyguards had opened fire, the governor’s men had done the same.

Now the two sides were exchanging disruptor blasts with bloodless intensity. And as long as the proconsul’s men held their own, the unificationists had at least a ghost of a chance.

Spock turned his weapon on his own manacles. They disintegrated down the middle, freeing his hands. That done, he reset his weapon to Stun.

Then he turned to the main body of rebels and held up the disruptor—in his hands, a symbol of hope and freedom. For a strange, detached moment, even in the blood-pounding haste with which he moved, he considered their faces.

He saw the unflinching trust in their eyes, and the incipient cheers that shaped their mouths, and the rise of color in their hollow cheeks—and he hoped he had not led them astray.

Most of all, Skrasis, whom he had the least reason to protect.

Or was it the most?

“To the gate!” he bellowed. “Follow me!”

The gate, of course, represented the way out. It was also where the citizens of Constanthus had gathered to watch the executions—no doubt, at the instigation of the local constabulary.

“Come on!” cried Skrasis. “To the gate!”

By that time, Spock was already crossing the courtyard in long running strides, eyes darting about to see who might be firing a blast at one of his charges. He was so intent on protecting the others, he almost didn’t see a dark blue disruptor beam slice through the air in front of him.

But it didn’t hit him. So far so good.

And he’d covered almost half the courtyard. Judging from their cries of exhortation, the other rebels were right behind him.

The Vulcan felt one of his hamstring muscles tighten painfully. He gritted his teeth. After his long confinement, he was fortunate his other muscles hadn’t cramped as well. In any case, he could tolerate the discomfort—as long as it ended in their freedom.

With every pelting step, the gate and the crowd of Romulans in front of it was getting closer and closer. And so, of course, were those who guarded the gate. Spock hadn’t forgotten about them.

Earlier, he’d noticed that there were two sentinels. As he looked up now, it seemed that he’d counted correctly—if the two disruptor rifles pointed in his direction were any indication.

Up until a few seconds ago the weapons had no doubt been trained on Eragian and his escort. Like everyone else, the watchmen had likely forgotten about the rebels. However, it had become rather difficult to ignore them.

Raising his weapon two-handed, the Vulcan slowed down just a bit, so as not to throw off his aim. Then he released a blast at the sentinel to his right.

The blue beam rammed into the Romulan, sending him sprawling out of sight. Spock nodded approvingly.

Turning his attention to the other watchman, he was about to repeat the maneuver when he saw another beam rise up—and envelop the sentinel in a ball of writhing, wrenching energies. As the Romulan fell from his perch, Spock glanced at the source of the beam.

It was Skrasis, with a disruptor pistol in his hand. Somehow, the Vulcan mused, his student had gotten hold of a weapon. What’s more, he had no intention of merely stunning his adversaries.

Spock was about to remark on Skrasis’s accuracy when he saw the man’s expression begin to change. Too late, he realized why.

He whirled to face the crowd ahead of them, where a single Romulan was separating himself from his companions. A Romulan with a disruptor in his hand, who was obviously no citizen but a guard planted there for security purposes.

A spy—just like Skrasis.

The Vulcan had no time to react—to fall to the ground or otherwise avoid the blast. All he had time for was to steel himself against it.

But before it could come, Spock felt a weight slam into him. It propelled him forward out of danger—so when the blinding flash of the disruptor beam reached out for him, it missed.

Still, it hit something. Or someone.

Even as the Vulcan hit the ground, he was turning back to see who had saved him. To his horror, it was Skrasis.

In the background, Spock sensed a great many things. He heard screams of agony and shouts of triumph. He glimpsed running, and strife, and the firing of eerie blue beams.

But all that was secondary right now. His entire universe had narrowed its focus to the man writhing at his feet, his tunic partially burned away to reveal a bloody horror of a wound.

He would not let Skrasis die, he thought, as he knelt beside his student. He would not.

“The pain—” groaned the Romulan.

“Is a distraction,” Spock whispered to him. “Nothing more.” He placed a reassuring hand on the youth’s shoulder.

Looking up, the Vulcan saw that the rebels’ fortunes had taken a turn for the worse. Frightened by the sudden appearance of the guard in citizen’s clothing, the unificationists had retreated back toward the center of the courtyard.

And the guard himself was now walking toward them warily, his disruptor pistol aimed squarely at Spock.

The Vulcan sighed. He had dropped his own weapon in his haste to help his student—and it would not be wise to attempt to recover it under such circumstances. He would almost certainly perish in the attempt.

“We have failed,” Skrasis gasped.

“Yes,” Spock agreed. Just as Belan had failed.

Back in the center of the courtyard, in the shadow of the gallows, some semblance of order had been restored. The unificationists were being herded into a tightly massed group by the remaining guards.

There was no sign of either Eragian or his men. Either they had been cut down or they’d found the means to escape. Judging from the pitch of Tharrus’s voice, the Vulcan guessed it was the latter.

“Save yourself,” urged his student.

“That is no longer an option,” the Vulcan advised him, glancing at the approaching guard. The man seemed uncertain about what to do with them.

“Then we will … we will both die,” Skrasis grunted.

“I believe you are correct,” Spock observed.