Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [81]
“I cannot say,” he told the governor.
At first, Tharrus thought he had heard his agent incorrectly. Then, when he saw the smiles emerging on the faces of the unificationists, he realized he had heard him perfectly.
“You… cannot say?” the governor repeated. “And why is that?”
The muscles worked in Skrasis’s temples. He seemed to be struggling with a decision he could only have made moments earlier.
“Because it would be a betrayal,” he said. “A betrayal of one I have come to admire.”
Tharrus looked at him. “Tell me you’re joking.”
The younger Romulan shook his head. “I am not,” he advised.
For the love of Order … Skrasis had become one of them!
Somewhere along the line, he had adopted the doctrines of those he was supposed to be infiltrating. And by virtue of that, he was now useless.
“You’re making a mistake,” the governor told him. “A very big mistake.”
“That may be,” Skrasis agreed. “But it is the path I have chosen.”
For a moment, the governor felt an urge to kill. He wanted to tear the man limb from limb, like a ravening beast—to pay him back for his arrogance and stupidity.
Then the moment subsided. Taking a deep breath, Tharrus spat at Skrasis’s feet. The infiltrator barely flinched.
Turning to the rebels themselves, the governor realized there was still an option open to him. He took it.
“My agent’s abject stupidity is your opportunity. I need to identify the one called Spock, and to do that I require your help. What’s more, my request—and for now, it is only a request—does not come without its rewards for those who comply with it.”
There was a shuffling of feet. A predictable reaction, Tharrus told himself. No one wanted to think of himself as a traitor, especially among these people—though he was certain someone would shoulder that burden if the price were right.
And if it were couched in the right terms.
“Let me amend my offer,” Tharrus remarked. “Rather than restrict my gratitude to only those who offer assistance … I will reward everyone. And why not?” he asked. “Am I not the governor of this planet? Do I not hold the power of life and death?”
Of course, he was lying. After broadcasting the trial, he could hardly have spared the rebels their due. But they didn’t have to know that.
He scanned the assemblage for some clue that would tell him what he wanted to know. As yet, there was nothing, no indication at all. He was growing even more impatient than when he’d walked into this place.
“Amnesty,” he said, getting to the point. “For everyone present. Except Spock himself, of course. And for him,” Tharrus went on, compounding his lie, “protection from the homewor authorities, who would not have been so reasonable if they had discovered him first.”
Still nothing.
The governor’s teeth grated. “You understand,” he explained, “I will find Spock with or without your help. By cooperating, you will only make things easier on yourself—and on him.”
He capped his argument with the most compelling remark he could make to these imbeciles.
“It is the only logical option open to you.”
For a moment, the prisoners remained still. Tharrus could feel the blood rushing to his face. All right, he thought. If that is the way they wanted it, he would be glad to—
Suddenly, one of the rebels stepped forward. The governor recognized him as the smooth-brow he had encountered earlier. As before, he showed neither fear nor arrogance as he met Tharrus’s gaze.
“I am Spock,” the man admitted.
The governor smiled again. At last. Now he could proceed with his plans.
He turned to gesture to his guards—but out of the corner of his eye, Tharrus saw someone else step forward. Like the first one, this was an older man, his dark eyes seemingly devoid of emotion. However, he was taller and thinner than his comrade.
“My colleague’s attempt to impersonate me is a courageous one,” said the second prisoner. “And clever, as well. However, he is perpetrating a falsehood. I am Spock.”
The governor looked from one to the other. Which one was telling the truth? Before he could decide,