Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [0]
The Vulcan heard the footsteps outside his door several seconds before the Romulan arrived. The warning gave him the time he needed to bring his meditation to a close.
A moment later, he was waiting by the entrance, alert. Continuing to track the sound of footsteps, the Vulcan calculated the precise moment when the Romulan would enter his quarters.
The Vulcan’s superior hearing gave him the necessary advantage. Though Romulan hearing was comparable to the Vulcan variety, the Vulcan himself was of mixed blood.
As was often the case in nature, the hybrid exhibited characteristics superior to those of either parent species. It was a simple and logical part of the evolutionary process.
In this case, the Vulcan had chosen to keep his superior hearing a secret from his Romulan hosts—a decision he now realized was wise indeed.
Just as the Vulcan knew they would, the footsteps stopped in front and the door opened almost instantly. The Vulcan waited a heartbeat for the Romulan to take a step inside his quarters. Then he struck, aiming the first blow at the Romulan’s head.
Reacting quickly, the Romulan dodged to one side and partially deflected the Vulcan’s hand. Nevertheless, the blow struck the Romulan on the shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
There was a brief moment, as the Romulan lay on the deck, during which he looked up at the Vulcan with uncomprehending eyes. Instead of pressing his advantage, the Vulcan waited to see what his adversary would do.
The Romulan lifted himself from the deck. Then the Vulcan saw the rage come.
On his feet again, the Romulan launched an attack of his own, striking viciously with a flurry of blows from either hand. With a precision and economy of movement characteristic of his people’s defense techniques, the Vulcan met the blows, deflecting their force and lessening their impact.
Nevertheless, the fierceness of the counterattack surprised the Vulcan. What’s more, if this went on much longer, he might find himself in an untenable position.
The Romulan was significantly younger than he was. And being younger, he could maintain the ferocity of his attack until after the Vulcan’s strength had fled.
No matter, the Vulcan told himself. He had already accomplished his purpose. And it was in his power, he believed, to end the fight right now.
Waiting until the Romulan threw a blow and was thus off balance, the Vulcan grabbed the striking hand. Then he used a simple twist of his own body to toss the Romulan to the floor.
Landing solidly on his back, the Romulan was stunned for a moment—but only for a moment. When that was over, he gathered his legs beneath him and prepared to strike again.
“Enough,” the Vulcan said evenly.
Standing, the Romulan drew back his fist, his eyes still full of anger.
“Cease your attack,” the Vulcan said in a stronger tone.
The Romulan hesitated, trembling with the effort it required to restrain himself.
“This lesson is ended,” the Vulcan said.
Finally, his words had the desired impact. The Romulan stopped moving entirely and regarded his mentor.
The anger on his face was gradually replaced with shame. As he regained control over his passions, his features went blank—except for the merest hint of curiosity.
“Teacher,” the Romulan asked, “why did you strike me?”
The Vulcan eyed his charge impassively for a moment before responding. “Why do you think I struck you?”
Even though Sel`den’s mask of control was securely in place, the Vulcan could see his student’s discomfort.
“You were testing me?” Sel`den asked.
The Vulcan nodded.
Sel’den frowned. “And I lost control. I returned your attack. Instead of studying the situation and measuring my response, I responded emotionally. I did not even use the Vulcan fighting techniques you have taught me.”
The younger man considered these facts for a moment, and then came to his conclusion: “I have failed your test.”
Though Sel’den’s control was impeccable, his humiliation was revealed by the green that tinged his complexion.
The Vulcan shook his head. “It was not my intention to judge you. This was