Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [88]
Even the infiltrator showed no emotion—even Skrasis, who had only joined the unificationists to betray them. It seemed he had become just like them.
The governor shook his head. Once again, it seemed, he had underestimated the Vulcan’s power over them.
But he would not be beaten. Not when glory and advancement dangled almost within his reach. And certainly not by these stone-faced pacifists.
Grinding his teeth, Tharrus pointed to the woman closest to him and turned to Phabaris. “Place this one on the platform,” he said.
After all, there were several females among the unificationists, and several men much too young to be Spock. And then there was the spy.
All of these were surplus as far as the governor was concerned. Expendable. He could sacrifice them without running the risk of killing Spock.
“Yes, Governor,” Phabaris replied. With a gesture, he had one of his subordinates pluck the woman out of the line.
As she ascended the stairs, with Tharrus’s guard urging her forward, she cast a look back at the other prisoners. It wasn’t enough to give anyone away, unfortunately. But at least, the governor thought, they were beginning to make some progress.
He pointed to another female, this one older than the first and more frail. “That one as well,” he told Phabaris. He selected a young man next—almost a child, it seemed to him. “And him.”
Before he was done, he had picked out six of the rebels. Four females, two young men. Along with their executioners, they were all the gallows could handle at one time.
The spy, he decided, he would save for the next batch. That is, if he needed a next batch.
Turning to the first woman he had selected, Tharrus saw her take a deep, quavering breath. Come, he urged her with his eyes. Tell me which one is Spock and I’ll spare your life.
But she didn’t say what he wished to hear. Too bad, he mused. Looking to the guard behind her, he nodded.
Slowly the man guided the noose over the prisoner’s head and tightened it around her neck. She winced once when the coarseness of the rope abraded her delicate skin. But other than that, she remained silent.
The crowd murmured, horrified. The governor’s mouth twisted in disgust. A pity, he thought, that the populace showed little more loyalty than the rebels. He resolved again to do something about that when this was all over.
In the meantime, the guard up on the platform had finished his preparations. The woman’s nostrils flared as she stared off into the distance. All that was needed was a word from Tharrus and a lever would be pulled—and the trapdoor would fall, leaving the rope as the prisoner’s only means of support.
The governor raised his hand. Meaningfully, he turned to the other prisoners, but none of them relented. He sighed and let his hand drop.
“No!” came a cry from behind him.
The executioner hesitated, gazing at something behind Tharrus. The governor whirled—and saw that a half-dozen Romulans had beamed down into the courtyard, off to one side of the crowd. They were surrounded by the last telltale sparkles of the Romulan transporter effect.
What’s more, Tharrus recognized one of the intruders—the one whose voice still echoed in the courtyard. It was no less a dignitary than Proconsul Eragian. And beside him was his Tal Shiar watchdog.
Were they mad? wondered the governor. What was the proconsul doing all the way out here—so far from the seat of his power?
Certainly, he hadn’t come all this way just to lord it over a few captured unificationists. That would hardly have made the journey worthwhile—not to mention the risk to his honored person.
Unless, of course, he knew of the prize in their midst. Unless he knew that Tharrus had captured the greatest rebel of all.
The governor cursed under his breath. That was it, wasn’t it? By his ancestors, Eragian knew about Spock.
The proconsul strode forward, looking for all the world as if he owned the place. The Tal Shiar